


I'd Swing With You for the Fences

by nontoxic



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, What's the opposite of a slow burn, egregious use of pop music, egregious use of social media, egregious use of text messages, lots of self-indulgence here folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 86,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nontoxic/pseuds/nontoxic
Summary: Patrick Brewer of all people sliding into his DM's is intriguing.Because just two days ago, David stumbled across Patrick Brewer's Raya profile.He remembers a single black-and-white photo of a clean-cut looking guy, wearing a baseball cap and laughing, his face turned away from the camera so it's seen mostly in profile. He had a great smile. David was struck by the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, by how genuine he looked.PATRICK, 30@patrickbrewerLives In: Toronto, ONFrom: Toronto, ONWork: MLB BaseballDavid swiped right without reading further.PROFILE NOT FOUND.Okay...---Patrick Brewer, the MVP of last year's World Series and a viral social media star, has a bit of a crush on David Rose, a gallerist living in New York City and occasional guest star on his sister's reality show. He convinces himself to do something about it - after all, he's only in town to play the Yankees for a few nights.(a self-indulgent baseball/celebrity au)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens/Alexis Rose
Comments: 1928
Kudos: 1472





	1. you paint dreamscapes on the wall (david)

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, the Roses lost their money, stayed in Stevie's motel for a while and became much closer. Then they got it back. (There's some hand-waving about that part because I really just wanted to write an AU where they're famous and rich but retain the character development we got in the show. This AU isn't canon divergent, the only bit of canon I'm using is that they stayed in Stevie's motel). Patrick is a famous baseball player who posts a few too many acoustic pop music covers on Instagram.
> 
> Baseball is the one thing I've really missed during the shutdown, so I started writing this as a totally self-indulgent piece.
> 
> This will be updated fairly regularly, it's pretty much completed, I just need to edit it.
> 
> \--
> 
> title from taylor swift's "peace."

David has had a lot of weird men - and women, and people all across the gender spectrum, really - seek him out over the years. He's well-known for being good for a night on the town, followed by a few casual hours in, never staying till morning. After some choice photos of him were released by an ex, he was called a slut on social media so often that he spray painted the word over a McQueen teeshirt and wore it on the red carpet at the MTV Movie Awards - even though he didn't stay for the ceremony. So it wasn't surprising when someone unexpected just slid into his DM's.

What's surprising is _who_ just slid into his DM's.

His phone screen goes dark, so he presses the side button, reading his notifications again, just to make sure.

 **patrickbrewer** started following you.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your video.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your video.  
**patrickbrewer** liked your photo.  
**patrickbrewer** has sent you a message.  
**patrickbrewer** has sent you a message.  
**patrickbrewer** has sent you a message.

His thumb hesitates for another moment, before it taps the last notification, seemingly without his permission, and the message thread Patrick Brewer created opens, just as another message comes through.

Well. So much for pretending like he didn't get the messages.

**Messages with** patrickbrewer  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Hi!  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Sorry, this is weird.  
  
**patrickbrewer:** I should've started this better. Let me start over:  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Hi, I saw your show advertised in Time Out and wanted to come by and see it, but I couldn't make it to the opening last night and your hours aren't listed on your website. Are you still showing it, or was it a one-night-only thing?  


David rereads the messages, twice. The idea of Patrick Brewer wanting to see his show intrigues him. He's intrigued.

Patrick Brewer of all people sliding into his DM's is intriguing.

Because just two days ago, David stumbled across Patrick Brewer's Raya profile.

He remembers a single black-and-white photo of a clean-cut looking guy, wearing a baseball cap and laughing, his face turned away from the camera so it's seen mostly in profile. He had a great smile. David was struck by the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, by how _genuine_ he looked.

David spent most of his life with models and actors who think that appearing apathetic and bored is peak attractiveness. So Patrick's photo caught his eye immediately.

PATRICK, 30  
@patrickbrewer  
Lives In: Toronto, ON  
From: Toronto, ON  
Work: MLB Baseball

David swiped right without reading further.

**ERROR.**

He tried again.

**ERROR.**

He tapped Patrick's profile photo to pull up more information. Maybe he would have better luck from the full profile.

**PROFILE NOT FOUND.**

Okay...

So he moved on, and hasn't thought about Patrick Brewer since. He had an opening looming anyway. He only recognized the name because the deletion of the account mid-swipe was out of the ordinary. And maybe because his smile had made him smile, but he would never admit that.

He taps out a reply, and reads it over. "hi, it wasnt, but we are unfortunately only open on weekends. id be happy to set a ticket aside for you for next weekend if youd like?" It's fine. It's professional.

He hits send. Almost immediately, there's another message.

**Messages with** patrickbrewer  
  
**thedavidrose:** hi, it wasnt, but we are unfortunately only open on weekends. id be happy to set a ticket aside for you for next weekend if youd like?  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Ah, dang. I'm only in town through tomorrow night.  


David sees that Patrick is typing a message, but then stops. He starts again, and stops again. He's typing out a third draft when David decides to go easy on him.

After all, he _was_ going to swipe right.

**Messages with** patrickbrewer  
  
**thedavidrose:** well then id be happy to show it to you tonight if you dont mind missing the performance artists.  
  
**thedavidrose:** i dont like, keep them chained up in the gallery just in case some guy ive never met wants to swing by for a private viewing  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Really? That'd be great! I can come by anytime, what works best for you?  
  
**thedavidrose:** i can do 8  
  
**patrickbrewer:** 8 it is! See you then! :)  


He typed an emoticon.

An entire emoji keyboard integrated into his phone, and he types an emoticon.

David sighs.

\---

It's 8:12 PM when David's cab pulls up. Not bad, considering who he is as a person.

He swipes his card and steps out of the cab, digging his keys out of his pocket.

"David Rose?"

He glances over and... okay, he stumbles a bit.

Patrick Brewer is _fucking hot._

He was expecting that carefree, boyish smile.

But the black and white did nothing for how absolutely gorgeous he is.

He has some light stubble highlighting his jawline, and his wide eyes are a deep honey-whiskey shade that David could absolutely drown in, set in remarkable contrast against his pale skin. His Levi's are - annoyingly - the perfect wash to accentuate his strong-looking thighs (and David allows himself a fantasy of exactly one second where Patrick lifts him and presses him to the wall with those thighs. And maybe he allows another second to imagine those thighs bracketing his hips while Patrick straddles him. And, okay, so he gives himself one more second to imagine what those thighs would look like slicked up while David presses between them, but that's _it._ He definitely doesn't linger for a fourth second, imagining how they would look from behind, Patrick on his knees and using those strong muscles to drive back against David). He's paired those perfect jeans with a dark blue button up that gapes open at his neck and pulls tight across his chest, his thick, pale forearms flexing as he extends a hand and _oh yeah_ , he's here to maybe buy something.

David has a fucking job to do, and he is a professional.

"Patrick Brewer?" He asks, taking his hand - firm grip, calloused, warm.

He doesn't allow his mind to wander to a place where that hand is elsewhere - everywhere - on his skin. He spent long enough on the man's thighs.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you."

"Mmm. Shall we?" David asks, gesturing toward the door.

Patrick follows him inside, his eyes lighting up as David flicks the lights on.

"Wow, it looks incredible, David."

He feels himself flush, and turns his back to Patrick, busying himself with turning off the alarm system. "Thank you, um. Do you want the tour?"

Patrick smiles widely at him, and he kind of forgets how his feet work for a second, before brushing past him to lead him along the Eastern wall.

"So, there's a complete narrative here, if you work the room counterclockwise. Which, um, I'm not supposed to tell you. In theory." He's rambling. What the actual fuck. "It's designed to encourage people just wander aimlessly from piece to piece, never taking their time to see the whole picture, which is also part of the theme? It's better with the performance artists, though. There's one who would sit facing the wall and crying, and it really ties the whole collection together. Without her, the heartbreak isn't as tangibly uncomfortable for the audience to witness, and it really works better if you're in here with a group of strangers, all kind ofsharing that bystander discomfort." What is he _doing_ , oh my god. "Oh, and there was another performance artist in the next room, who spent the evening ripping up newspapers and letting them burn in his hands, but that entire installation makes no sense without them, even with the music, so we can just skip that one..."

He's cringing internally. Why can't he stop talking?

"Can you tell me about this one?" Patrick asks, gesturing to the first painting, his big eyes locked on David.

He's rescuing him, David realizes. Giving him a chance to tell this story and talk about the art he loves.

So he does.

He tells him all about the artist and how they sculpted the paint to create shadows on the canvas to convey emotion, and then steps to the next piece and explains how the two canvases used represent the dichotomy of pain. He gestures to a hanging glass installation and tells Patrick about how the artist used broken glass found around the city to capture a singular moment in time.

Patrick nods and hmm's at all the right points, but spends more time watching David talk about the art than he spends looking at the art.

And with each story he finishes, Patrick just asks about the next one, and then the one after that.

An hour later, they'd made it around the entire room, and David is feeling deeply unnerved by the man next to him, as if he's been scrubbed raw and wrung out, but Patrick is still pulling more from him. For someone who prides himself on his aloofness, it's uncomfortable.

"I know you said it doesn't work without the newspaper guy, but what's in the next room?"

"Oh, we can just skip it."

"No, I-I wanna know," he says, his voice friendly, but not pushing.

"It's really not-"

Patrick cocks his head. Like a goddamn golden retriever.

David sighs. "This whole exhibition was supposed to be about reclaiming one's narrative, about taking the horrible things that have happened to you and that you're not ashamed." He takes a deep breath. "I mean, you read the Time Out piece."

Patrick nods, his eyes unflinchingly focused on David.

"It, um." He clears his throat. "I haven't shown any art in a... in a long time. A story leaked a few years ago that my parents were buying all my patrons." He laughs, uncomfortably. "And then my monster of an ex showed an exhibit of... _private_ photos of me that I hadn't consented to even being taken, let alone displayed." He clears his throat. "The um. The room, next door, it's full of those photos. I actually had to pay him for them. But that artist lighting some of them on fire and throwing the ash at the people who came here hoping to see them is cathartic as fuck, to be completely honest."

Patrick drops his head and laughs lightly. He shuffles his feet for a moment before looking back up. "Thank you, David."

"For what?"

"For being so honest with me. You don't know me. And you know I read the Time Out article, so you really didn't need to tell me, but... it meant a lot, hearing it from you."

David waves him off. "Yeah, well, it's not every day a professional athlete slides into my DM's because he's interested in my art."

Patrick smirks at him. "Oh, I'm _very_ interested in your art, David."

His heart stutters so hard that he thinks he might actually _die_. He might drop dead, here, in the middle of an exhibit he spent _months_ carefully curating.

"Oh. Um."

"And in the interest of being honest, I should probably tell you," Patrick glances away, his words stuttering in his mouth. "I um, I really don't _like any_ of these."

David laughs, an ugly, open, bubbling laugh. The kind of laugh he doesn't _remember_ the last time he did so.

And he's doing it in front of this gorgeous guy who apparently _isn't_ going to buy any of the art.

He should feel self-conscious. He knows that when he laughs like this, his eyes squint unattractively, his already-intense brows knit together and look like a really bad unibrow, and his laugh lines carve deeply into his skin. He knows that laughing like this makes his crooked bottom teeth visible. Sebastien once told him he was much more attractive when he was sad than when he was happy. David used to wonder if that's why he got laid at all - he was _always_ sad.

But he can't _stop_ laughing now.

And Patrick is smiling widely — _beautifully_ — at him.

It's slightly unfair.

David takes a few deep breaths, and swipes at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Sorry, sorry-"

"Don't apologize," Patrick tells him, earnestly. "You have a great laugh."

Well, what the fuck is he supposed to say to that?

"Do um, do you want to see the other room?" Okay, apparently _that's_ an option. Apparently he can just... ask Patrick if he wants to see the revenge porn his ex took without his consent, photos of him, glassy-eyed and too-thin, being fucked by a man that he doesn't recognize, who Sebastien refused to name. Photos of his mouth wrapped around Sebastien's dick. Photos of him, passed out and naked, in Sebastien's bed, in his old bed in his old apartment, in a strange bed he doesn't know, with _other_ bodies around him he doesn't recognize, his eyes vacant.

Photos that the press deemed "nudes." Photos of his assaults, plural. Because he can recognize that, now. That he's a survivor, that he wasn't "engaging in reckless sexual activity," but that he was abused for months by someone he trusted.

Photos that took years of therapy for him to be able to face, photos that he hates. He still struggles to look at them - it took him _days_ to finish this part of the installation, but he made it through with only one panic attack, though he hasn't been in that room since. He may not be able to look at the photos, but thinking about them now, of the person he has grown into since, makes him feel strong.

Patrick shakes his head. "Nah, I don't need to." David can _feel_ his face fall before he can stop it. God, of _course_ Patrick thinks it's vile. "No, no, I just... I mean... I don't need to see that. It doesn't seem like you want me to. And that's fine, I'm... um, I'm much more interested in the version of you that's standing here."

He created this exhibit as a last "fuck you" to everyone who made him feel badly about himself, to prove that he's won. And still, the spectators didn't get it. They thought it was for shock value to get press, not for shock value to make the viewer think about their role in these situations.

But Patrick got it. He gets it. He _sees_ it, without even needing to actually see it.

 _Fuck it_ , David thinks, before leaning over and kissing him, softly.

And somehow, Patrick is kissing him back.

He pulls away after a moment, and tucks his smile into the side of his face, trying to contain it as much as possible.

"Thank you." Patrick says, earnestly.

"For what?"

"Um, I was starting to get a little scared that I was gonna leave here tonight without us having done that, so thank you, for making that happen for us."

 _Oh._ "Well fortunately, I am a very generous person."

Patrick smiles at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way David already loves. "Can I take you to dinner?"

"Oh, god, yes, please, I am _starving_."

Patrick laughs, and drops a hand to David's waist, lightly guiding him toward the door.

\---

"So," Patrick says, handing his menu to the waitress. "What made you say yes to this date?"

David is confused. _David_ had been the one to kiss _him_ , of course he was going to say yes? "Um, I..."

"I mean, I figured an unsolicited DM wasn't the best way to ask you out, but after-"

"Wait, you mean meeting at the _gallery_ was a date?"

"Yes?"

David shakes his head, and pulls out his phone, opening Instagram and finding their messages easily. "Do me a favor, and read this, and never, _ever_ ask someone out like this again."

Patrick takes the phone and reads over the messages, then David watches his eyes return to the top and read them again. "What's wrong with it?"

"You made it sound like you wanted to go to my gallery opening! I thought you wanted to buy some art!"

"I liked, like, ten of your pictures!"

"Okay, I take _really_ good photos!"

"But then _you_ said 8 o'clock! 8 o'clock is the universal 'date time!' I assumed you were on board!"

David snatches his phone back, laughing lightly. "You're hopeless."

"Guess I'll have to make it more clear for our next date, then," Patrick says with a confidence that makes David's knees a little weak.

Okay. Maybe not _totally_ hopeless.

Their waiter brings over their wine, and they swap stories about their childhoods - Patrick's in a bungalow in a Toronto suburb, David's in a mansion in Southern California - and their careers.

"So, what brings you to the city?"

"Oh, we're playing the Yankees."

"Mm, which I guess is why you missed my _very_ exclusive opening."

Patrick laughs. "Well, yeah. Tonight's actually my only night free. We played Friday and yesterday, then another tomorrow, then on to Detroit."

David crinkles his nose. "Detroit?"

"Yeah, it's not fun, but someone's gotta do it." He pauses for a moment. "Actually, kicking Detroit's ass is _great_ fun."

He laughs. "Mm, I'm sure." They're silent for a moment as they both sip their wine."So, you-"

"Would you-"

"You go."

"No, please, go ahead."

David swallows thickly. "So tonight is your only night off."

"Yeah."

"And then you're... on tour?"

Patrick smiles, but there's something off in his eyes. "Yeah."

"For how long?"

"Hopefully seven months, if we can make it to the World Series again."

"Okay. Okay, just um... just wanted to confirm that."

He takes a big gulp of wine.

Of _course_ he meets this great guy, who is kind and funny and gorgeous, who has taken him on the best date of his life. Who thinks he has a _great laugh_. Who hasn't judged him once. Maybe Patrick will even give him a crazy good blowjob after.

Then he's going to disappear.

David will never catch a break, will he?

"Would you want to come to the game tomorrow?"

He chokes on his wine. "The _baseball_ game?"

"That's correct."

"Outside? With a crowd of screaming beer-drunks?"

"There will be hot dogs."

David bites his lip. "I have a couple of questions."

"How many of them are about the hot dogs?"

"Most of them."

Patrick chuckles, and takes a sip of his wine.

\---

David _doesn't_ get a crazy good blowjob at the end of their date. He gets a shared cab to his place and a lovely, lingering kiss goodbye, before he steps out of the car and Patrick disappears down Greene Street toward his hotel.

David steps into his building, takes the elevator to the penthouse, drops his keys in the bowl next to his door, and steps into his bathroom for a shower.

He glances at the mirror, and he doesn't recognize himself.

He's smiling softly.

He doesn't remember the last time his face looked like this.

He doesn't hate it.

\---

He wakes up to the buzzer incessantly being held down, just a long, loud BZZZZZ rousing him from the best sleep of his life.

He fucking _hates_ Stevie.

Still, he pulls himself to his front door and hits the button to let her in.

"God, _finally_ ," she says a few minutes later as she steps into his apartment, dropping a small suitcase and her laptop bag right inside the door. "I was trying to buzz in for fifteen minutes."

David rolls his eyes. "Hi, Stevie, it's great to see you," he tells her, deadpan.

She smiles at him. It's genuine, and he loves her for it.

So he gives her a hug. It's crazy that they can do this now. That _he_ can do this now. That he's a person who has one best friend that he hugs hello, instead of 200 acquaintances who want him to pay of the bar tab.

"Okay, okay. Enough." Well, that best friend was Stevie, after all.

He pulls back and steps into the kitchen, while she drops her bags in his guest room. He's just finishing the coffee when she comes out, changed out of her "meeting suit" and in her normal flannel and denim.

"So, how was the opening?"

"Mm, it was great."

"Just great?"

"Yep."

"You're being weird."

" _You're_ being weird." She just stares at him. "What? The opening went well, we sold a lot, the press was positive, and I feel good about it." He can hear the giddiness in his voice. Ugh. He's so obvious.

"You feel good about it."

"Yes."

She just nods. "Okay, fine. Don't tell me."

He hands her a cup of coffee before he pours his own. "Tell you _what?_ There's nothing to tell."

"You didn't want me there-"

"Because I had those horrible photos Sebastien took on display and I did not need you seeing that," he interjects.

"-And now you're being cagey," she continues, ignoring him. "And smiley. You're _smiley._ "

"I'm not allowed to smile now?"

"Not without a good reason, no."

He can feel his resolve cracking. He _does_ want to talk about it, he just knows Stevie and she'll never let him live it down. But he wants to tell her. "Fine!" He sighs, exasperated. "I think I might have... maybe... met someone."

Stevie's eyes widen a bit. "You're _grinning_ , David."

He is. He didn't even realize it, but he is. "Yes."

Stevie takes a seat at the counter and props her elbows up, resting her chin on her fists. "So, tell me about them?"

He shakes his head at her. "No, no. It is _way_ too soon for all _this_ ," he says, gesturing toward her.

"I _know_ you want to talk about it. You were _wiggling_."

Ugh. He didn't realize that, either. "How do you do that?"

She smirks at him. "It's a gift. Now spill! I haven't _liked_ someone in literal years, let me live vicariously."

He sighs. "His name is Patrick."

"Ooh, _Patrick_..."

"Don't!" He leans back against the counter, a soft smile playing at his lips. "We just... he DM'd me on Instagram wanting to come to the gallery, and I thought he wanted to shop for some art, so I gave him a private tour-"

"I bet you did."

He ignores her. "And then we went to dinner."

She narrows her eyes. "And that's it?"

"Yes."

"That sounds like a business meeting."

"Okay, so... there may have been _some_ kissing."

" _Some_ kissing?"

"Yes. Some light, respectful necking in the car on the way back."

"He came back with you?!" She hisses, her eyes darting over toward his closed bedroom door.

He covers his face with one hand. "No, no. He didn't. We just... shared a cab. Two stops."

"Are you seeing him again?"

David takes a sip of his coffee. "Yes, I'm um. I'm going to the Yankee game tonight to see him."

Stevie cocks her head. "He's taking _you_ to a _baseball_ game? And you... _like_ him?"

"He, uh. He's not... he's not _taking_ me to the game, per se..."

"Oh, David... Wait. This isn't like how Lysa used to make you guys go places separately so you wouldn't be seen together, is it?"

"No! No, he's... he's playing in the game. He plays for the Toronto Blue Birds, or whatever?"

Stevie's eyes widen with surprise. "Wait - you're going out with _Patrick Brewer?!"_

"Yes?"

"Oh my god. This is... this is _rich_. I didn't even know he was into guys?"

"I guess he is?"

"You, uh... you know he's like, A Big Fucking Deal, right?"

"What?"

"He's _super_ famous. He had this insane play in the World Series last year, where he hit a grand slam in the 9th inning..." She looks at him. "He's also super famous for his Instagram."

"What about it?"

"You said he DM'd you. Did you not look at his profile?"

"No?

"Oh, man. You're gonna be so fucked," she says, pulling out her phone and tapping at the screen for a few seconds before handing it over to him.

" _You are my fire, the one desire..._ "

David just watches as Patrick's voice smooths over the song, his fingers deft on the neck of his guitar. His hair is a little longer here, but the date in the bottom of the screen tells him this was uploaded on Thursday. He wonders if Patrick got his hair cut before their date. The thought makes him smile.

" _Oh I want it that way..._ "

Stevie is snatching her phone back before he can catch his breath. "Yeah, you're fucked, man."

"I... I had no idea that he could..."

"Yeah, he posts a ton of these. It's his _thing_." She cocks her head at him. "You gonna be okay?"

He just nods. His throat just feels a little too dry to speak just yet.

"So, what time is the game?"

"7 o'clock."

"And will you be bringing him back here after? Should I make myself scarce?"

"Oh, I actually don't know what we're going to... you know what? Yes. Just... just in case?"

She smirks at him. "Going to a baseball game _and_ kicking me out? He must be some guy, David."

He tries to tamp down his smile. "He is."

Stevie's eyes go a little soft, and she lifts her mug to her lips to hide her smile. "I'll get a hotel tonight."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. The sex better be worth me paying Manhattan hotel prices."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh my God, _fine._ I will call the Greenwich for you." He knows she has connections - even better than his, honestly - and could probably get any hotel room she wanted for free. Still, he's feeling generous today. And she _is_ willing to drag her bags across Manhattan again so David has the opportunity to get laid...

"It's really the least you could do. Also, I would like a suite, if they would be so kind?"

He flips her off, but starts dialing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -I Want It That Way by Backstreet Boys (Stevie shows David Patrick's Instagram)


	2. i can see us twisted in bedsheets (patrick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick goes on the road. They make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter of this! I truly just wrote this for myself because I missed baseball so much. I haven't published anything in about 7 years, so knowing other people are reading it and enjoying it is... wild. Thank you thank you thank you!
> 
> Also, I'm experimenting with a text/DM skin on this for the first time, so please let me know if it doesn't display right for you.
> 
> \--
> 
> I also just wanted to quickly note that while Patrick is not publicly out at this point in this fic, it's not because of homophobia or even internalized homophobia. He's just figuring out what it means for him.
> 
> This fic/AU is a safe space. For Patrick, and for readers.
> 
> \--
> 
> chapter title from "august" by taylor swift
> 
> (i wasn't even gonna do chapter titles but then folklore happened so.)  
>   
>   
> 

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** so i just realized i never gave you my number  


Patrick feels his heart skip a beat at the message, and immediately types out a reply. ****

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** so i just realized i never gave you my number  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Oh, sorry, I don't accept DM's from people who aren't following me. Fans can reach out to the Blue Jays management at bluejaysmgmt@mlb.com, subject line "Patrick Brewer autograph" for a signed baseball card, though!  
  
**thedavidrose:** youre so fucking annoying  
  
**patrickbrewer:** :)  
  
**thedavidrose:** 917-555-4856  
  
**thedavidrose:** do with that what you will  


Patrick smiles. God, he's so fucking smitten.

He was ever since he saw David Rose in person for the first time, across the room at last year's People's Choice Awards. His dark eyes and strong jawline and five o'clock shadow...

And yeah, the fact that he wanted to get up in the middle of the telecast and walk over to David's seat and just _straddle_ him right then and there really just helped confirm that he was, indeed, _very_ gay.

Which he really should've known when Rachel turned on a marathon of _A Little Bit Alexis_ last summer and he could only watch her brother. He had convinced himself then it was a jealousy thing - he was envious of his height, of his trim torso, of his long legs and dark eyebrows, of how _manly_ he was, where Patrick was all compact, innocent boyishness. He only made it through one episode before the need to _move_ forced him out of the apartment, irrational irritation about tanned arms and large hands fueling his hike.

Or maybe he should've known from the Rose Video Christmas card in high school, tacked up on the bulletin board in the breakroom - how he noticed David's awkward smile and asymmetrical haircut, his eyes squinting in an attempt to look cool behind his dark-rimmed glasses and absently thought, _Oh, he's cute._

Or maybe it's the fact that, nearly 15 years later, he still remembers that fleeting thought.

Whenever it happened, he's been attracted to David Rose for a while now. It just... took him a while to figure out why.

And yeah, of course, there were other men he was attracted to over the years. Lots of seemingly disconnected events clicked into place for him after he realized he was gay near the end of the last season. He finally had a name for why he always felt flustered around Jake’s post-game shamelessness in the locker room. A label to put to the crush he had on his college roommate's best friend, who came around far too often for Patrick's liking, always lounging on their couch and leaving no room for anyone else with his long legs stretched out in front of him, tucking his messy brown hair behind his ears and smiling beatifically. A reason for why he would record episodes of _Angel_ onto VHS tapes in junior high and watch them late at night when his friends weren't around to tease him. Turns out, he was always kind of into the tall, dark, and handsome thing.

Still, David Rose lingered in Patrick's periphery for years, his face splashed across the covers of tabloids in supermarket checkout lines, his latest controversy flooding Patrick's Twitter feed, tell-all interviews with his exes on _Entertainment Tonight_ , paparazzi photos of them stumbling out of clubs and long-lens shots of private moments on hotel balconies montaged together over the dialogue.

He seemed so... _sad_. He remembers killing time at a Barnes and Noble once in college, an _In Touch Weekly_ cover of David catching his eye. He was vacant-eyed and loose-limbed, his head lolling to the side as whatever former child star he was dating at the time drove him away from some club that has long since closed. He doesn't remember the headline, but he does remember using a stack of _Good Housekeeping'_ s to cover it up.

He remembers an Apple News alert that Johnny Rose was being charged with tax evasion after his business manager had embezzled millions.

He remembers the Roses disappearing, their absence from the headlines tangible, though maybe that was just because he was so unknowingly hyperaware of them - or, at least, of David.

So with their triumphant return to the spotlight a year later, Patrick expected to be inundated with a return to form from the family.

Instead, they were quiet.

When he eventually saw a paparazzi shot of David and Alexis, walking arm-in-arm on Rodeo Drive two years ago while filming the rebooted _A Little Bit Alexis_ , he was struck by how _happy_ they both looked. And _healthy_. He doesn't remember ever seeing them together outside of Rose Video Christmas cards before that. Now, there was an ease to their relationship. A stereotypical bickering on screen, but fond smiles and genuine love seeping through every frame.

Patrick had always thought David Rose was striking. But now? Now, David Rose was powerful, breathtaking.

So when he saw David's profile on Raya, he swiped right, thinking it was fate.

...And then immediately deleted his account in a wave of anxiety.

And he instantly regretted it.

But he had two games to focus on, so he didn't let himself think about it any further. No matter how good David Rose looked in his profile photo, eyes dark and facing the lens head-on, leather jacket stretched to its limit across his shoulders.

On his third day in New York, Patrick passed a newsstand on his morning run when he saw him again, this time in print on the cover of _Time Out New York_ , under the headline "The Emancipation of David Rose."

He dropped a $10 bill on the counter and didn't bother to wait for change, immediately crossing the street to pore over the article in some park Patrick didn't know the name of. And _god_ , he's impressive. Patrick doesn't think he could do what David is doing, holding his head high and refusing to cower to those who have hurt him (actually, he _knows_ he couldn't).

It felt like a sign, getting this opportunity to bump into David at an event, to meet him organically instead of on an app. He imagined a hundred meet-cutes, from suavely grabbing David a drink and introducing himself, to their eyes meeting across the room and instantly feeling a spark. But the show was yesterday, and there was no indication in the article of the gallery's hours of operations.

Okay, so, maybe they don't meet organically. Maybe Patrick had to put in some effort. Which was fine. He's a take-charge guy. And David's bravery inspired him to be brave.

So he slid into his DM's. And yeah, okay, he felt a little bit like he was stalking his celebrity crush, but he doesn't regret it one bit.

How could he, when he's kissed David Rose twice now? When he still feels it lingering on his lips, that spark he felt last night still lowly thrumming through him, from the surface of his skin to deep, deep into the marrow of his bones? When he woke up at 5 AM and couldn't fall back asleep because he was so fucking _happy_ that he had to take the train to Van Cortlandt Park just to run off some of his excess energy? He can't remember the last time anyone, or anything, even a fucking World Series win, made him feel like this. It feels... _right_. He feels right, for the first time in his life.

(And yeah, he's kissed guys before - okay, _one_ guy - but this? This is different in ways that Patrick doesn't even have words for.)

The fact that he's 31 years old and feels this way for the first time depresses him - but _god_ , was it ever worth the wait.

 **thedavidrose** started following you.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  


It doesn't seem like David regrets it, either.

 **thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  


**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:18 PM  
**Patrick:** Please stop.  
  
**David:** who is this?  


**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  


**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:18 PM  
**Patrick:** Please stop.  
  
**David:** who is this?  
  
**Patrick:** You're lucky you're cute.  
  
**David:** with a message like that, could be anyone  


**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  
**thedavidrose** liked your video.  
**thedavidrose** liked your photo.  


Patrick laughs. He's so _fucked_.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:20 PM  
**David:** with a message like that, could be anyone  
  
**Patrick:** This is Patrick Brewer, center fielder for the Toronto Blue Jays, jersey number 12, and I'd really like for you to stop blowing up my phone.  
  
**David:** i told myself i would only go until there was a picture i didn't actually like, but i couldnt find one  


His heart skips and his stomach flips and his blood rushes into his ears. He wonders if maybe David was as affected by their kiss( _es_ , he reminds himself. He's kissed David _twice_ ) last night. He thinks it's unlikely that David Rose of all people still feels a soft tingle on his lips, let alone the same electricity running through his veins that Patrick feels. Still, he hopes. God, he _hopes_.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**David:** i told myself i would only go until there was a picture i didn't actually like, but i couldnt find one  
  
**Patrick:** Aw, you think I'm cute, too.  
  
**David:** no, you just post a lot of pictures of food  
  
**Patrick:** Ouch.  
  
**David:** but you are very talented  
  
**David:** though that is a LOT of backstreet boys covers  
  
**Patrick:** Ah, then you didn't go back far enough for my Madonna phase. Although I was thinking about doing some Carly Rae next.  


Patrick watches as the three grey dots appear, indicating that David is typing. Then they disappear. Then they appear again.

He shifts his phone from hand to hand, and bounces his knee. Did he tease too much? He has no fucking clue how to flirt with someone like David, who is worldly and sophisticated and unapologetically queer.

Though he seemed to do okay last night? At least, once it was clear it was a date.

God, he really is hopeless.

The dots disappear again, then suddenly a message comes through.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:23 PM  
**David:** i bought a ticket for the game  


Patrick will deny it, even under torture, but he jumps to his feet then and pumps his fist out and back at his side, a grunted, "Yes!" escaping through his teeth before he can stop it.

It feels like a win. It feels like he's going to explode.

He nods his head, once, and exhales deeply, reveling in the feeling of David wanting to see him again, before sitting down and composing himself. His grin stays, though.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:23 PM  
**David:** i bought a ticket for the game  
  
**Patrick:** Can I buy you dinner after?  
  
**David:** pretty sure its my turn  
  
**Patrick:** It's a date, then.  
  
**Patrick:** Making that clear this time. :)  
  
**David:** youre learning  


The dots appear and disappear and reappear again, just like before.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:27 PM  
**David:** so, i didnt dig per se but... i assume youre not out?  


Patrick feels his stomach drop. _Fuck_.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:27 PM  
**David:** so, i didnt dig per se but... i assume youre not out?  
  
**David:** which is fine!  
  
**David:** you have to do it on your terms  
  
**David:** i just wanted to make sure i took you somewhere discreet tonight if you dont want to be photographed  


He didn't even _think_ of that.

God, he's an idiot.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:27 PM  
**David:** i just wanted to make sure i took you somewhere discreet tonight if you dont want to be photographed  
  
**Today** 12:28 PM  
**Patrick:** I'm not. Not that I'm ashamed or anything, I'm just not out. Yet.  
  
**David:** that's fine. we can just get takeout and watch a movie at my place?  
  
**David:** unless youd feel more comfortable at your hotel?  
  
**David:** or we can go to a restaurant, i know some places that could seat us privately  
  
**Patrick:** Takeout and a movie sounds perfect, David.  
  
**David:** great, it's a date.  
  
**David:** making it clear that i know it is one this time  
  
**Patrick:** Can't wait :)  


Patrick's grin stays on his face as he packs up and leaves the hotel. It stays as his car drives him to Yankee Stadium. It even stays as he changes into his uniform for warm ups.

He puts his phone in his locker before changing his mind and checking it one last time before the game.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:45 PM  
**David:** break a leg today!  
  
**Today** 1:17 PM  
**Patrick:** Thank you.  
  
**Patrick:** Meet me after, outside the locker room exit? I won't have my phone until after the game.  
  
**Patrick:** Hope you have fun! I'll be looking for you. :)  


He tosses his phone in the locker and slams it shut, ready to kick some Yankee ass.

\---

Of course they lose. Badly.

All he wanted was to play a great game and impress the guy.

Instead, he struck out at every at-bat, fumbled a catch in the third inning, then collided with Mutt as they both chased after a ball in the fifth, giving the Yankees time to score three _more_ runs, and leaves with his metaphorical tail between his legs. It's embarrassing, and he wouldn't be surprised if David left long before the seventh inning stretch and ghosted him.

"Hey." He looks up and sees David, standing tentatively at the end of the walkway outside the player's entrance, mercifully empty of fans (though that's hardly surprising, based on their performance tonight), wringing his hands gently. "I didn't know if you'd still want to..."

"I still want to," Patrick says, cutting him off. Dinner with David might be the only thing that salvages the day.

One corner of David's mouth quirks, and Patrick watches as he forces it back down to neutral. "Okay then."

Patrick gestures to the car waiting for him, and holds the door for David.

David looks at him for a moment, his eyes curious, and pulls his lips in with his teeth, a pleased look on his face.

For some reason, that _In Touch_ cover flashes into his mind, so opposing to the image of Patrick opening the door for him. Patrick wonders if David is thinking of the same thing.

As the car pulls away from the curb, he slides his hand across the seat to rest on David's knee, and watches as David bites down on the inside of his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth stretching against his will, even as he pulls them back down. He remembers the way David laughed last night, beautiful and open and honest. He hopes he can make that happen again, soon.

"So," he starts, squeezing David's knee once before pulling his hand back into his lap. "You never finished telling me about the time you rescued your sister in Ibiza."

David turns to look at him and rolls his eyes, "Oh my _god_ , she was so _obnoxious_ about it," and launches into the story.

He somehow doesn't finish until they're driving through the East Village.

"...And when we _finally_ got home, I took the bag and sold it."

"What about the cash?"

David gapes at him, incredulous. "It was _counterfeit_ , Patrick. I burned it."

Patrick shakes his head. "I can't believe you left the tiger behind, though."

"I couldn't bring him on the plane, we had to fly commercial!"

They're pulling up to David's apartment when the driver asks, "Should I pick you up tomorrow morning here or at the hotel?"

It startles him, and he freezes. He forgot they weren't alone.

"Oh, um. The hotel, please," he answers.

The driver nods, slightly narrowing his eyes at Patrick in the mirror. "It'll be early. Schedule says 5:30, for a 6:30 drop off at Newark." He says it like he doesn't believe Patrick will make it back by then. As if he should just meet him here.

Patrick nods. "I'll be there," he answers, tersely.

He and David climb out of the car and make their way silently and awkwardly up the elevator and into David's apartment.

David barely has the door closed behind them when he nervously says, "Patrick, if this is too much, we can just..." He trails off and shakes his hands out slightly where they hang awkwardly at his side.

"What?" Patrick asks, genuinely curious how David wants to end that sentence.

"I don't know, you tell me! You got all weird and I-"

Patrick turns to face him head-on and reaches both hands out to grip David's shoulders. "David, I'm sorry. I just... The game _sucked_ and all I wanted was to impress this really incredible guy that came to watch me play but instead it was the worst game of my _entire_ career, and I'm tired, and I'm a sore loser, and then the driver set me on edge. But I want to be here, now. With you."

David just nods. "Mmhmm. How incredible is this guy, though?"

"David!" He laughs, dropping his hands. He already misses the heat of David's skin through his (very soft) sweater.

"Like, scale of one to ten."

"An eleven, easy." David's eyes soften a bit, and yeah, Patrick loves that.

David leans forward and kisses him softly, his lips gently moving against his for a moment, one ringed hand resting gently on his neck, before he pulls away and pushes past Patrick to step further into the apartment.

Patrick barely hears him saying "Let's order dinner" over the roaring in his ears.

David pulls up Seamless and orders a ridiculous number of soup dumplings from "this little takeout counter on Prince Street that most people around here ignore and it's _criminal_ ," along with two large pizzas and an order of mozzarella sticks from "a dollar slice place that I assure you is _the best_ pizza in New York," and a truly obscene amount of baked goods from "this small coffee shop that makes the _most_ delicious cream puffs."

"Huh."

"What?"

Patrick shakes his head. "I, uh. I just thought you'd be more..."

David just looks at him.

"Um... pretentious?"

He barks a laugh. "Oh, I am. But not about food. If you want to pay a hundred dollars for a beautifully plated two-bite serving of locally-raised, grass-fed steak, I definitely know of a place. But I would much rather eat pizza."

Patrick smiles widely. "Me too."

David smirks at him. "I may give your athlete appetite a run for its money."

"We'll make a great pair, then," he says, realizing (and _hoping_ ) that it may be true.

David kisses him lazily then, right there against the counter in his kitchen, making Patrick's brain go fuzzy - until he realizes the increasing static in his ears is the door buzzing with their first delivery.

It is, unfortunately, their pastries, which David won't let him eat because "while dessert before dinner is generally more than encouraged, but I will not allow you to fuck up your taste buds with all that sugar before eating the most delicately flavored soup dumplings ever made. That's just a total waste."

Instead, David pours them each a drink and pulls down plates, setting the table while they wait for dinner to arrive. Once they have assembled a mountain of to-go containers in the center of the table, they finally sit down to eat, knees brushing casually under the table, feet knocking into each other in feigned accidents.

Then Patrick takes a bite of a dumpling and - holy shit. He can't help the _moan_ that escapes his lips.

"Okay, you're _not_ allowed to do _that_ , unless you don't want to finish eating," David tells him, eyes fixed firmly on his plate.

Patrick chokes a bit, his throat suddenly dry despite the (yes, delicately-flavored) broth sliding down his throat, struck by the idea that David might feel the same attraction for him that he feels for David. It's heady. He's never felt anything like it - pride and desire mixing into such a delicious combination that makes him feel powerful in a way he never has before. It's a little surprising and intoxicating. "Okay," he croaks out, once he catches his breath. "It is _really_ good, though."

David preens a bit at his compliment. Patrick wonders if maybe David wanted to impress him just as much as he had wanted to impress David at the game. It makes his stomach flip in a way that feels foreign, but that he's quickly is realizing is exclusively linked to David. (Even if he _is_ a little jealous that it's going _much_ better for David than it did for him. He's still a sore loser, after all.)

He watches as David wraps his lips around a dumpling and sinks his teeth into it, his throat working as he swallows. He can't look away.

It's strange, this intense feeling of _wanting_ someone. He _wants_ to kiss him, to touch him, to get to know him... he _really_ wants to have sex with him, which is even wilder.

He may have figured out that he’s gay a while ago, but he's never felt like this. It feels like more than just a couple fun dates. He _likes_ him, so much, already. And all they've really talked about so far is art, David's family, and their college experiences. But the David-shaped puzzle he's been assembling over the last two days has taught him that this guy has been through some serious shit, that he's jaded and bitter about some things but hopeful and optimistic about others, that he sees the beauty in everything around him, even the depressing, and even more, in the mundane, and from the way he talks about his family, that he loves, fiercely and wholly, even if he tries to seem aloof and brash.

Patrick is so fucking into him, and not at all ready to leave New York tomorrow.

Which is why, when they've eaten one too many choux pastries and are lazily making out on David's couch as the credits roll on a _second_ movie, all he can think is that he doesn't want to go.

"I have an early flight..." he mumbles against David's lips.

"Mmhmm," David responds, a hand trailing lightly along Patrick's side, leaving smoldering embers in its wake. "Do you want to leave?"

"No," Patrick whispers on an inhale before he can stop himself. It's true, he doesn't want to leave this place - this spot under David's weight, this bubble they're in, this apartment, this city... he doesn't want to leave.

"Good," David says, his hand coming to rest on Patrick's belt for a moment, his hips pushing Patrick's further into the couch.

Patrick can feel David's cock, hard and _right fucking there_ , press against his. He nearly comes in his pants, the noise he makes entirely inappropriate for the fact that David has _barely touched him_. "Stop, stop, stop," he breathes, desperate for a moment to collect himself.

David's eyes are wide and he's up and off of him in a flash, his hands in tight fists in front of him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, don't - it's... shit, David, I just..." He sighs. "I've never done this before. Um, with a guy."

He can _see_ the wall go back up behind David's eyes. "Okay," he says, his tone giving away absolutely nothing.

Which, _fuck_ , no.

"No, I don't... I'm not..." He takes a deep breath, and scrambles up to sit against the other arm of the couch, facing David. "I've known that I..." He breathes in again. "I went to London for New Year's," he starts. David just blinks at him. "I figured no one would recognize me there, I'd be anonymous, y'know? So I... I went to a gay bar, and I made out with this guy in a bathroom stall and he gave me a hand job."

David crosses his arms protectively. Patrick hates it. "And?"

"And that's it. Until kissing you last night, that's... that's it. I just... I got busy, with spring training, and this is our first matchup of the season, so I haven't really..." He takes another breath. God, he sucks at this.

"So is that why you were on Raya? You were hoping to find some 25-year-old twink that plays a teenager on TV to experiment with?" He raises his shoulders up to his ears. “Is that why you DM’d me? Because I don’t really-“

Patrick is shaking his head. "No! No, shit, I'm... I'm not explaining this right."

David's eyes soften a bit, and his arms relax slightly. He takes a breath and meets Patrick's gaze. "Okay. Okay, go ahead."

He steels himself, and looks David right in the eyes. "I've never dated someone I _like_ this much, is what I was _trying_ to say." He sees David's wall crumble, just a little, and he knows he's on the right track. "It's just... all I've done with a guy is one quick and dirty hand job in a pub bathroom halfway across the world. And I... I don't want to rush things, here, okay? I _like_ you, David. I want to take my time with this, with _you_."

David rolls his lips between his teeth. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's, um. Take our time with this."

Patrick grins. "Okay."

"Please stop saying okay."

"Okay, David."

He glares, but there's no heat behind it.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"You asked me earlier if I was out. And it's not because I'm ashamed or anything, it's just... I _just_ figured out that I was into guys. Like five months ago. I'm not ready to... to be a _spokesperson_ for queer athletes. Not when I don't even know what it means for _me_ yet."

"Okay."

"I just... I wanted to explain-"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Patrick. I told you, you have to do it on your terms, okay?"

"Yeah, I just-"

"Patrick."

He looks at him.

"It's fine. Coming out is a personal thing, something you should only do when you're ready."

Patrick leans forward to kiss him softly, warmth blooming in his chest. "Thank you, David," he whispers against his lips.

David just hums in response.

Their lips press against each other's gently for a moment, unmoving and unhurried. Patrick pulls back first, and traces one thumb along David's jaw, just watching his face. "So you saw my Raya profile?" He teases.

"...No."

"Did you swipe right?"

"Okay, we _really_ don't need to be doing _this_."

"I deleted it almost instantly, how often are you swiping?"

"I don't like you."

He smirks, his thumb still lightly stroking David's face. "I think you do, though."

"So! When, um. When will you be back in the city?" David asks, clearly uncomfortable under Patrick's attention and unwilling to admit anything about his own feelings. Patrick thinks that might be an admission in and of itself, though.

Patrick flinches. He knows the answer. He checked the second David got out of the cab last night. "September."

"September?!"

"Yeah, I know, it's not ideal, but maybe... you know, if you _happen_ to be visiting a friend in Chicago or Miami or something? Or we'll be in Philly in June?"

"When is Chicago?"

Patrick pulls out his phone and searches his calendar. He sighs. "July."

David rolls his eyes. "Well. I guess I'll just have to visit my parents in Toronto soon, then."

His eyes go wide. "Your parents live in Toronto?"

"Yes, Patrick, my father, Johnny Rose, the CEO of the Rosebud Motel Group, and my mother, Moira Rose, the Director of Programming at the Toronto Rep, do indeed live in Toronto."

"I probably should've known that."

David smirks. "All that Instagram stalking and not a single Google? Honestly, these facts are at the top of their Wikipedia pages, I expected more from y-"

He cuts him off with his lips, kissing him deeply before pulling away and telling him, "Just make sure we're in town before you visit?"

David smirks. "I suppose I could check your schedule," he responds, leaning back and pulling Patrick on top of him.

They trade kisses until things heat up, then pull apart to cool down, sitting with their thighs pressed together from hip to knee, Patrick tracing light patterns on David's palm and just... talk. David tells him how the Roses nearly lost everything a few years back, and while the Revenue Agency had all their assets frozen, his now-best-friend Stevie put them up in her family's motel for free ("She still rubs it in my face sometimes, but like, no one else was even using those rooms!"). In exchange, his father invested in her business once their finances were sorted out and now they have more money than ever, thanks to some really profitable locations ("Stevie and Alexis redesigned the Joshua Tree motel and charge influencers and hipsters 300 bucks a night to take selfies in it").

He tells David about the first baseball (well, tee-ball) game he ever played, and how he paid off his parents house when he signed with the Blue Jays six years ago.

They kiss, and they talk, and they touch, and they kiss, they touch, and they talk, and they repeat this cycle over and over until the edge of the skyline turns from black to navy to light blue.

Patrick is pressing kisses into David's jaw when he mumbles, "I really have to go."

David nods. "I know," he whispers, voice betraying his vulnerability. Patrick feels him swallow, his cheek pressed right against David's throat.

David pulls back with a sigh and extends a hand to Patrick, pulling him up off the couch and walking him to the door. They stand there for a moment, looking at each other, until David kisses Patrick deeply. Patrick kisses him back just as hard, desperate for this last bit of closeness.

"I'll see you in Toronto?" David mumbles against his lips.

"I'll see you in Toronto," Patrick confirms.

One final press of lips and he's in the elevator alone.

He hails a cab back to his hotel to pack and meet his driver. The moment he's inside the cab, he takes out his phone to type out a text, but one is already waiting for him.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 4:39 AM  
**David:** im crashing. text me when you land?  
  
**Patrick:** Of course. Go get some sleep, David.  
  
**David:** goodnight patrick  
  
**Patrick:** Good morning, David. ;)  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:17 PM  
**David:** ugh alexis is back in nyc  
  
**David:** only found out when the sound of someone stomping around my apartment woke me up this morning at an ungodly time  
  
**David:** we just got back from brunch and she's sleeping off the jetlag in my guest room  
  
**David:** she has her own apartment!!!!!!!!!  
  
**Today** 2:45 PM  
**David:** hows detroit  
  
**Today** 9:17 PM  
**Patrick:** It's fine. We won, so that's nice.  
  
**David:** i know  
  
**David:** i may have downloaded the app  
  
**Patrick:** Wow. Who knew you were such a big baseball fan?  
  
**David:** i already regret telling you this  
  
**Patrick:** Don't, I think it's cute that you downloaded the app to keep tabs on me.  
  
**David:** you will never let me live this down will you  
  
**Patrick:** Oh, not a chance ;)  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:45 AM  
**Patrick:** IMG_1732.jpg  
  
**Patrick:** Good morning, David!  
  
**Today** 10:07 AM  
**David:** honestly why are you texting me in the middle of the night if youre not sending nudes  
  
**David:** also do not send me pictures of delicious looking pancakes first thing when i wake up  
  
**David:** its mean  
  
**Patrick:** I'll keep that in mind.  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:36 AM  
**Patrick:** IMG_1735.jpg  
  
**Patrick:** Good morning, David ;)  
  
**Today** 10:03 AM  
**David:** holy shit  
  
**David:** this doesnt feel slow patrick!!  
  
**Patrick:** What? There's nothing scandalous here, the sheet covers everything.  
  
**David:** yes that near-gossamer tissue-thin sheet is leaving so much to the imagination  
  
**Patrick:** Oh? What are you imagining, David?  
  
**David:** no, we are not sexting before i even get to touch the real thing, thats incorrect  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 2:12 AM  
**David:** IMG_3456.jpg  
  
**David:** goodnight patrick  
  
**Today** 5:31 AM  
**Patrick:** Holy shit  
  
**Today** 5:40 AM  
**Patrick:** Youre so fucking gorgeous  
  
**Today** 10:17 AM  
**David:** no proper punctuation? the picture was that good?  
  
**Patrick:** You know it was, David.  
  
**David:** good enough that youll tell me what you were doing for the ten mins between your messages this morning?  
  
**Patrick:** Looking at the picture you sent.  
  
**Patrick:** Which may or may not be saved in a private folder on my phone now.  
  
**Patrick:** Damn it, I have to go. I have training with the team. I'll talk to you after the game?  
  
**David:** its a date  


\---

Patrick barely finished uploading the video when David DM's him.

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** i believe i was promised some carly rae  
  
**thedavidrose:** garth brooks is not a cute look even for you  


It makes him laugh out loud, sitting there alone in his hotel room. He knows exactly what song he wants to post tomorrow.

He still has an hour before he needs to leave for the game, so he sets up his phone and his guitar, and hits record.

" _Hey, I just met you and this is crazy..._ "

\---

He knows David isn't a morning person. He prefers to wake up at 10 o'clock, so Patrick brews a tea using the hotel's coffee maker and orders room service while he waits to text him. He misses him. Which is crazy, right? They've spoken a few times over the last two weeks, and he knows that eventually, he'll see him in Toronto, but he still _misses_ him.

The clock finally switches to 10:00 and he pulls out his phone.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:00 AM  
**Patrick:** Hi  
  
**David:** hi  
  
**Patrick:** Have you ever been to Boston?  
  
**David:** unfortunately  
  
**David:** why?  
  
**Patrick:** Just trying to figure out if there's anything I should do while I'm here.  
  
**David:** the gardner museum. and theres a restaurant i love there but ill have to look it up  
  
**David:** oh and suppose one was hypothetically going to send you something, what hotel and room number would they send it to? and if it was hypothetically going to require a signature, when would you be there to receive it?  


Patrick grins and types his info quickly.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:04 AM  
**Patrick:** Westin Copley Square, room 1124.  
  
**Patrick:** I'll be here for another hour or so, but I can push if you need me to, especially if the only thing worth seeing is one museum. ;)  
  
**David:** great, it should be there shortly.  


He busies himself while he waits for his breakfast by ironing some shirts and tidying the room, putting things back in their designated spots and making the bed. He _could_ wait for housekeeping, but old habits die hard, and Marcy Brewer would be disappointed in the current state of his room.

He's absently straightening the pillows when there's a knock at the door. He's excited to see what David is sending, but he _really_ hopes it's breakfast. He didn't have his protein shake after this morning's workout and he is _starving_. He rushes to pull the door open, and-

"David?"

"Surprise?"

"You're not my breakfast."

David is wringing his hands, his torso bent sideways at the waist. He's nervous. "I could be," he replies with false confidence. Patrick thrills a little that he can already tell.

He gapes for another moment before reaching out and grabbing David's arm, pulling him (and his bags) into the room and slamming the door behind him.

The door hasn't clicked shut before his mouth is on his, his hands gripping his waist to make sure he's real.

"What are you doing here?" he murmurs into David's lips.

"I wanted to surprise you."

He dives in again, kissing him firmly and openly, sliding one hand around to the back of David's head. "I'm surprised," he tells him when he finally pulls away.

David still looks a little uncertain. "It, um, it isn't too much? That I came here?"

Patrick shakes his head furiously. "Not at all. But I'm a little mad you didn't come straight here when you got in last night."

David pulls back, confused. "I was in New York last night."

"But... it's barely after 10?"

"Oh, he can tell time, too? What a catch." David jokes, looking down as he straightens his sweater, avoiding eye contact.

It dawns on him. "David."

" _What_?!" He asks, clipping the "t" in that way that Patrick knows means he's annoyed and defensive.

"Did you get on the 6 AM train to come see me?"

"Maybe!" He throws his hands up. "What, was I supposed to just waste the day? Get on the 11 AM train and get here at 3?!"

Patrick just smiles and pulls him in for another kiss, but just as their lips brush, there's a knock on the door.

"Wanna join me for breakfast?"

All the fight seems to melt out of him at the offer of food. Patrick files that away for future reference - and feels his stomach flip just thinking about a future David with a future him. "God, yes, _please_ , I didn't realize they don't feed you on trains. Or even give you a hot towel."

He laughs and opens the door, watching as David's eyes widen at the spread.

"Okay, yes, it was a _great_ idea to come here."

Patrick just shakes his head and gestures for the waiter to bring the table in, and hands him a generous tip.

Once the door closes behind him again, Patrick moves the table to the foot of the bed and sits, pulling David over to stand between his legs.

"Hey."

"Mm?" David asks, still looking at the table out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks for coming."

David waves him off. "How could I not after such a beautiful rendition of 'Call Me Maybe?'"

Patrick feels his cheeks flush at the compliment. "Ah, you saw it?"

He smirks. "Pretty sure after I liked about 50 of your posts that the algorithm will put you at the top of my feed every time."

"Guess I'll have to find my angles," he teases.

David look at him openly, pretending to consider him, gripping his chin and moving his head to observe him from all sides. "Hmm. You know, I don't think you have to worry about that."

"No?"

"Nope. They all seem good to me."

Patrick pulls him down for another kiss, loving the feeling of having to tilt his head back even further than usual (and thrilling at a _usual_ feeling of kissing David), of having David absolutely towering over him, but David pulls away too quickly for his liking. "This is a really lovely moment, but there is a table just _piled_ with food _right there_ and I _did_ wake up at 4 to come see you and haven't eaten so-"

He pecks him on the lips quickly to cut him off. "Say no more," he tells him, scooting back so David can join him on the bed and begins pulling the lids off the plates.

"We could've just eaten at the table like civilized people."

Patrick smirks at him, tearing off a piece of waffle and holding it up to David's lips. "Yeah, but then it would just be harder for us to make out after."

David takes the bite, his teeth lightly scraping Patrick's fingers, his breath hot on his hand. Patrick thinks he will never be able to look at a waffle the same way again.

"Mm, fair point," David says around the mouthful.

Patrick leans in for another brief kiss. "Dig in," he tells him when he pulls back.

David, it appears, does not need to be told twice.

\---

That night, after a few hours at the museum before the game and a late dinner at a (mercifully private) restaurant on the water after, they return to the hotel room, where they can finally get their hands on each other.

Patrick can't really _hate_ that he became a bit more recognizable after last year's World Series - he realizes that maybe his social media presence hasn't helped - and he doesn't hate that David is a former tabloid regular turned reality TV star, but he _does_ hate that he can't just date him like a regular person. That he can't just take him out for dinner and hold his hand when he walks him home and kiss him goodnight on his doorstep.

But he pushes that thought away, knowing they have privacy now, and pulls David in for a desperate kiss, the kind that comes from two glasses of wine at dinner, after a torturous afternoon of knuckles brushing lightly against knuckles, palms ghosting across lower backs, friendly hands clapped to shoulders for a lingering moment, and fists shoved into pockets when the urge to touch more, more, _more_ became too much to bear.

He slides a hand down David's back, and pulls his hips to his, grinding up into him. "David... _please..._ "

"Are you sure?" David asks, propping himself up on his hands, hovering tantalizingly over Patrick on the mattress. "We don't have to. I didn't come here to-"

"I know." Patrick can _feel_ that David is just as desperate as he is right now. The fact that he stopped to check makes Patrick certain that he's making the right choice. "I'm sure."

They undress in a fumble of limbs, and David slips under the sheet, biting and sucking marks into Patrick's thighs before finally, _finally_ showing mercy and taking him in his mouth. He feels David's tongue run along the vein on the underside of his cock, and swirl around the head. He feels his cheeks hollow as he sucks harder, he feels him taking Patrick deep into his throat, and he feels him as he swallows around him. He feels _everything_ and it's _everything_ and before he can stop himself, Patrick's hips stutter forward and he comes with a shout, embarrassed at how quickly it was over.

When he catches his breath, he does his best to return the favor, relying more on his hands than David had, but when he experimentally rolls David's balls in his left hand as his mouth and right hand work his ( _impressive_ , _beautiful_ ) cock, David pulls on his hair (which, _holy shit_ ) and whispers, "fuck, Patrick, I'm gonna..." and he pulls off, stroking him through it as David's come hits his lips and his chin. He tentatively licks his lips and _oh yeah_ , he loves this. He loves the feeling of David on his tongue, he loves the taste of him and the feeling of the coarse hair on his thighs against Patrick's cheek as he wipes his chin with one finger before sucking it into his mouth, chasing whatever else he can taste of David while his entire world rearranges itself yet again.

They're both boneless, laying next to each other in a bed neither one of them will sleep in again and trading lazy, sweet kisses after, when Patrick realizes David is smiling against his lips.

He pulls back, watching as David ducks his head and pulls his lower lip slightly in between his teeth, his smile fighting against it.

Patrick lifts a hand to his face and runs his thumb along his lower lip, pulling it free.

David's grin is... _incandescent,_ his brain supplies from somewhere.

"God, you're beautiful."

David's smile somehow widens, his eyes sparkling as he pulls Patrick in for another kiss.

Patrick feels his stomach swoop, and realizes that if he's not careful, he could very quickly fall for him.

He doesn't want to be careful.

\---

They wake up early the next day, as Patrick has a game and David has to get back to the city.

The air is heavy, neither one of them ready for this visit to end.

"Hey," Patrick whispers, bracketing his arms around David's waist, his hands gripping the counter next to David's hips as he brushes his teeth. He brushes a kiss against the back of David's neck, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"Mm," David murmurs around his toothbrush before he spits into the sink. Patrick just watches David rinse his toothbrush and slide it back into his travel case, before he turns in his arms and leans forward to kiss him. It's sweet and domestic and Patrick _really_ doesn't want it to end.

"So," David starts, leaning against the counter. "I was thinking about maybe, possibly, going to visit my parents at some point soon, maybe next week?" He smiles and slips his arms around Patrick's shoulders. Patrick's hands come to rest on his lower back easily. "Oh!" He says, feigning surprise. "Does that happen to be when you are in Toronto?"

Patrick grins. "You know, I'll have to check the schedule, but I think it just might be."

"What a coincidence!"

Patrick pulls him in for a kiss that quickly turns hot and messy. He nudges David forward and lifts him easily to sit on the bathroom counter, settling comfortably between his legs.

"You know," David says as Patrick is trailing kisses over his throat, his right hand sliding up the inseam of David's joggers. "My dad has always wanted me to get more interested in team sports, do you know of any games happening in Toronto next week that I should take him to?"

Patrick pulls away. "David?"

"Mmm?"

"Please shut the fuck up about your dad when I'm trying to get my hand on your dick."

David's eyes darken a bit more. Patrick loves that he can already catalogue some of David's expressions. "Shut the fuck up about who?"

"Right answer," Patrick whispers, his hand dipping below the waistband.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:01 AM  
**Patrick:** Can we sext yet  
  
**Patrick:** Because I've had my hand on my dick for the last half hour just waiting for you to wake up  


**Incoming Call: David**

"About time you woke up."

"We're not sexting, Patrick."

He feels his heart stop. _Fuck_. "Oh, um, I-"

"Yeah, no. We're gonna have mind-blowing phone sex so I can hear you."

"Oh! Yes, yeah, let's... let's do that," he said, pushing his shorts down and off, the sound of David's breathy laugh in his ear.

\---

He still has two full days before David is supposed to come to Toronto to see him. Before that, he was in Denver for four games. He's not bitter about it - he loves his job. He just wishes he maybe had more free time to spend with David. He has at least six more months of constant games and travel, and that's if they don't make it to the playoffs - which they _will_.

A part of him wishes that they'd played Yankee Stadium later in the season, instead of the _first fucking matchup_. Though he's glad he didn't have to wait any longer to meet David.

They've texted a lot - conversations about music (David is more Whitney than Mumford) and movies (David prefers romcoms to literally anything else) and skincare (David sent a string of thumbs-down emojis when Patrick mentioned his deal with Old Spice) and food (he already knows how David feels about food, but he doesn't tire of hearing him talk about it)... and sex. A lot of conversations about sex. David even sent some more choice photos that Patrick has saved into a password-protected folder that he opens so often that the password is muscle memory after only a day.

They've had a few more phone calls, too, and last night, they just talked about their days while David walked home from the gallery and hung up without even a hint to phone sex.

He _misses_ him. He doesn't remember the last time he ever just _missed_ someone he's seeing. Ten years with Rachel, and so much love, but he never _missed_ her when he was away. He just... was away.

But with David? Everything is different.

He thinks that this is how it's _supposed_ to feel, when you're falling for someone.

So it doesn't help that he's been in Toronto for 48 hours and still has 48 more to go before he can see his - David. Before he can see David.

It's _way_ too soon to call him his "boyfriend," right?

Yeah. He's fine with things being how they are. He doesn't want to rush this.

Clearly, David likes him. He got on a train at _Penn Station_ at 6AM to spend barely more than 24 hours with him in Boston. He's flying out of _LaGuardia_ and willing to go through customs to see him for three days.

Still, there's a place deep in Patrick's mind that's scared that maybe David is always like this - burns hot and bright and fizzles out when he loses interest.

But then he thinks of the smile he coaxed out of him in Boston and thinks maybe David is as dumb enamored with Patrick and he is with him.

He pulls out his phone and tripod, and sets it up in his favorite corner of his condo.

He grabs his guitar and settles in, hitting record.

A deep breath, and he starts.

He breezes through the second verse and picks up the tempo a bit on the second chorus to match the original, belting just a bit. He's showing off, for David, publicly, and even though no one knows, it thrills him a little. " _I'm a sucker for all the subliminal things no one knows about you. And you're making the typical me break my typical rules, it's true, I'm a sucker for you._ "

When he finishes, he exhales, and stops the recording.

He doesn't watch it back. He knows it's honest. It's a fun, upbeat pop song and no one will read into it, much like every cover he's played for the last two years.

But David will know, and that's what matters.

So he posts it.

His smile in the thumbnail takes him by surprise. He doesn't recognize it on his face.

His phone buzzes with a DM less than 15 minutes later.

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** you're so fucking annoying.  


He puts a period on the end, which Patrick now knows means he's being deadpan.

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** you're so fucking annoying.  
  
**patrickbrewer:** You don't like the song?  
  
**thedavidrose:** i love the song, even if joe jonas never called me back after we made out at a house party in la. i still mourn the eyebrows our children couldve had  
  
**patrickbrewer:** So you like the song. And Joe Jonas.  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Can't say I blame you for that one, though.  
  
**thedavidrose:** these days im more partial to nerdy baseball players who sing pop songs on instagram for clout than actual pop singers  
  
**patrickbrewer:** For clout? Nah, I sing so cute socialites will slide into my DMs and call me annoying.  
  
**thedavidrose:** EXCUSE YOU i am a GALLERIST who happens to be from a rich family  
  
**thedavidrose:** and you are annoying  
  
**thedavidrose:** is there anything you cant do  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Not sure. There are definitely a few things I haven't necessarily tried, but I'm SURE I could do them.  
  
**patrickbrewer:** Especially with the right motivation.  
  
**patrickbrewer:** And preparation.  


His phone rings.

"Patrick Brewer, Toronto Blue Jays, how may I direct your call?"

"Are you alone?"

He smirks. "Yes, David, I'm alone."

"Great. Put me on speaker and take your _fucking_ clothes off."

He laughs. "You know, David, I really don't have time right now, I'm about to run to practice, maybe you can just keep thinking about it for a few hours and then I'll call you tonight after the game?"

David _growls_. (Okay, it's more of a petulant huff, but Patrick thinks everything he does is sexy as hell, so it turns him on just the same.)

Patrick glances at his alarm clock from his place on the bed. "I have five minutes."

He scrambles to open his belt and push his jeans off, the sound of skin on skin ringing through the tinny receiver motivating him. He eventually just leaves his pants hanging off of one ankle.

They're gasping in each other's ears, and David is telling him everything he's doing to himself, and it's hot as hell, but it's also _fun_ , the way David can still tease him, even during sex.

Like when Patrick pushes his vibrator into himself and David whispers, "Describe it to me."

"It's blue, and-"

"Of course it is," David breathes with a laugh.

David's teasing makes him leak more. An errant thought crosses his mind that he won't have time to change the sheets before he leaves for the game, and it somehow spurs him on.

"God, David, I... It's... you're so good..."

"Shit, Patrick, stop, I gotta..."

His phone trills.

**INCOMING FACETIME CALL FROM: DAVID**

He accepts it instantly and sets the phone against the pillows, David's blissed-out expression filling the screen.

"Fuck, David..."

"Fuck, yourself!" David responds, before realizing what he just said and barking a laugh. "I mean... ugh. You just... you look so fucking good right now."

"David?"

"Hmm?"

"Please just tell me what to do."

David's face changes in an instant, eyes darkening and the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. Patrick nearly comes on the spot. "Turn the vibrator on, Patrick. As high as you can."

He does as he's told, and grips himself in his other hand, jacking quickly before he lets himself go, his eyes screwing shut tightly.

"Fuck, David, fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck..._ "

"Patrick..." he hears David choke on his name, and his eyes fly open just in time to watch David lose control.

They breathe in and out for a few moments, composing themselves.

"I miss you," Patrick blurts, unthinkingly.

David glances away from the phone. "Yeah..." he responds, quietly.

It's silent for a moment, then, "David?"

"Hmm?" David asks, turning back to the camera.

Patrick feels his mouth twitch up. "I have to go."

"I know."

"Will you watch the game?"

David rolls his eyes. "I don't-"

"Watch team sports, I know. But will it change your mind to know that my ass will be sore from this and I'll be thinking of you the whole time?"

He watches David bite his lip. "Jesus, Patrick..."

"Please?"

"Fuck! Fine, yes, I'll watch, but only long enough to jerk off to you in those pants."

Patrick hums, pleased. "I _really_ have to leave now..."

"I know."

He listens to David breathe for a moment, keeping his eyes closed. "I really do miss you."

It's silent on the other end for a moment. "I miss you, too," David manages, his voice low and strained, like he doesn't want to admit it.

Patrick swallows, opening his eyes. David is watching him intently. "I really like you, David."

"Oh my god, _fine,_ I'll watch the game!" David responds.

But Patrick sees David's eyes go shiny, even through the low resolution, and he _knows_. He knows he's not the only one in danger here.

"Great, I'll adjust my hat every time I think of you."

David rolls his eyes. "You're so fucking corny."

Patrick just smiles. "Bye, David."

"Bye, Patrick."

He hangs up and rushes to the bathroom to quickly rinse off before running down to the car waiting at the curb.

"You're fifteen minute late," his driver observes.

"I know."

"You're never late," Ivan says.

He catches his eye in the rearview as he pulls away from the curb, not waiting for Patrick to put his seatbelt on.

"Well, I'm late today."

"Rachel?"

Patrick glances up, surprised.

"Uh, no. No."

"Oh, new girl, then?"

Patrick smiles softly. "Something like that."

"You're good guy. You deserve to be happy."

Ivan has been Patrick's driver in Toronto the entire six years he's been playing for the Blue Jays. He likes him. He's a friend. But he doesn't pry, which makes Patrick like him more.

"Thanks, Ivan," he says. "I think... I think I really am."

Ivan smiles back in the mirror before turning his attention to the road and handing Patrick the AUX cable so he can turn on his pre-game playlist.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:09 PM  
**David:** you adjusted your hat 72 times.  
  
**Patrick:** 72 times that they showed on TV.  
  
**David:**...  
  
**David:** how the fuck am i supposed to play it cool when you say things like that???  
  
**Patrick:** So don't play it cool. God knows I'm not.  
  
**David:** yes because youre an annoyingly adorable nerd, weve established this  
  
**Patrick:** We've established that I'm annoying and a nerd, but I'm happy to see you add "adorable" to the mix.  
  
**David:** that ones all you, babe  
  
**David:** can we pretend i didnt just call you babe  
  
**Patrick:** Not a chance, babe.  


Patrick is smiling at his phone when he opens the door to Ivan's car and gets in.

"That girl?" Ivan asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

Patrick just smiles wider. Suddenly, he _needs_ to tell someone. He has this guy that he's absolutely crazy about... and he trusts Ivan. He's known him for years. They're friends.

He _wants_ to tell him.

Patrick hesitates just long enough.

"Ah, yes, so _is_ the girl."

"It um. It's actually... it's a guy."

Ivan raises an eyebrow at him in the rearview.

"And this guy make you happy?"

Patrick smiles at his phone. "Yeah. Yeah, he really does."

Ivan nods. "Then you let him." He glances up and meets Ivan's eye in the rearview briefly. "You deserve to be happy," he repeats.

"Thanks, Ivan."

He sits in silence for a moment.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:21 PM  
**David:** youre a menace.  


"You're the first person I've told."

Ivan raises an eyebrow. "I am honored."

Patrick feels his eyes get misty.

He blames it on the dry, recycled air in the car and a hard-earned win at the game.

"You should tell parents."

Patrick looks up again, but Ivan's eyes are on the road.

"They want you to be happy. They talk, last time they were at game. I drove."

Patrick remembers. It was the end of the last season, right after he broke up with Rachel. His parents came into the city for a week to see him and he asked Ivan drive them to a game to make sure they were safe.

He glances out the window. "I um. I haven't..." He takes a deep breath. "There hasn't been anyone worth telling them about. Before."

"But there is now?"

"There is now," Patrick confirms.

"Then you should tell them."

He nods.

Ivan stays silent, letting Patrick know he has said his piece, so he returns to his conversation with David

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:21 PM  
**David:** youre a menace.  
  
**Today** 10:25 PM  
**Patrick:** You know, you're pretty adorable too, babe.  
  
**David:** no.  
  
**Patrick:** No, you're not adorable?  


David doesn't respond, so Patrick tries for sincerity.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:25 PM  
**Patrick:** You know, you're pretty adorable too, babe.  
  
**David:** no.  
  
**Patrick:** No, you're not adorable?  
  
**Today** 10:33 PM  
**Patrick:** Hey.  
  
**Patrick:** Thanks for watching the game today.  
  
**David:** anytime  


Ivan is pulling up to Patrick's condo when he spots a figure lounging on his front steps, phone in hand, three suitcases at his feet.

"This guy?" Ivan asks.

Patrick lets out a laugh. "Yeah. That's him."

Ivan looks at him. "He out of your league," he tells him with a smile.

"Don't I know it."

Ivan puts the car in park. "Go, get guy."

Patrick unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. Before he opens it, he turns back to Ivan. "Hey, Ivan?"

He grunts.

"Thank you."

Ivan grunts again in acknowledgement. Patrick knows him well enough to understand - Ivan doesn't think he's done anything worth being thanked for.

That just makes him all the more thankful. 

Still, he opens the door and strides up the walkway, sitting down next to David.

"You came."

David rolls his eyes. "Yeah, on the phone with you this afternoon."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

David looks away, picking at invisible lint on his sweater. "Can we go inside?"

Patrick hoists his own duffle up on his shoulder and grabs two of David's bags, pulling them behind him and unlocking his door. The second they're both inside and the door is shut and locked behind them, he has both hands on either side of David's face, and kisses him with everything he has.

Which, after an intense orgasm _and_ a game that went into a 10th inning _and_ coming out to his oldest friend in the city, isn't much.

He's _exhausted_.

"It isn't too much?" David asks against his lips.

"Hmm?"

"That I showed up early." David pulls back a bit and studies Patrick's shirt, smoothing his hand to straighten it. "I um, I just wanted to see you, I didn't want to wait..."

Patrick kisses him again. "It wasn't too much. If anything, I wish you got here two days ago."

David smiles softly at him. Cautiously.

"I love that you're here, David." He tells him, earnestly. "I meant what I said on the phone earlier."

David nods, his lower lip pulled in between his teeth. "Me too."

Patrick wraps his arms around him then and hugs him, squeezing just this side of too tight, letting himself just feel it.

David's arms wind around his shoulders and pull him even closer.

He drops a light kiss to David's neck, right below his ear, in that spot where his face fits perfectly, his arms around David's waist where they fit perfectly, his hipbones tucked right under David's where they fit perfectly... this, pressed close against David, is where _he_ fits perfectly.

If David never let go, it would be too soon.

Still, he's very tired, and he would love to move this hug to a horizontal surface, so he pulls away slowly, knowing David may need a second to compose his expression.

Patrick _should_ take the time to get his own face neutralized, but he doesn't. He knows his eyes are gazing at David like he hung the moon, but he doesn't give a fuck.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go to bed."

He pulls David's duffle bag onto his shoulder, leaving his own just inside the door, and grabs all three of David's suitcases in his hands, thankful for the invention of spinner wheels.

"Okay, this is _very_ impressive, but I can at least take one of those."

Patrick feels a spark of self-satisfaction before he relents, handing one of the suitcases to David as he climbs the stairs. He's at the top before David hits the first landing.

"Sure you don't want help?"

"Fuck off, Brewer."

He laughs, watching David try to navigate the turn after the landing with his oversized luggage.

David finally makes it to the top, slightly out of breath and his eyes narrowed at Patrick, daring him to comment.

Instead, he just gestures to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. "Unless you'd feel more comfortable in the guest room?"

David just glares at him, maintaining pointed eye contact as he pulls up the telescoping handle of his suitcase and steps around Patrick, pulling his bag behind him.

Fuck, Patrick really likes him.

By the time Patrick has brushed his teeth in the en suite, David has unpacked one and a half suitcases, clothes laid across every flat surface, two large cosmetic bags sitting on the bed.

"Whoa."

David looks sheepish. "I, um. I didn't want these to wrinkle, and -"

Patrick kisses him. "You can use my closet if you need to, hang up whatever you want."

David seems surprised by this. "Oh, I don't have to-"

"David." Patrick says firmly, his hands gripping David's shoulders. "Use the closet. There's plenty of room and extra hangers. Use whatever you need."

He thinks about getting to a place in his relationship with David where he leaves some things here so he doesn't always have to pack a full wardrobe, where the other sink in the bathroom is overflowing with his two bags worth of product, where he has to clear a shelf in the shower for David's shampoo and conditioner.

It makes him think of a permanent situation, where the closet is half David's, where they've installed a mirrored cabinet above the sink so David's products don't have to sit out on the counter.

It's suddenly all a bit much, this huge feeling in his chest, and he leans in to kiss him, just to feel the press of David's lips against his. _Get a grip, Brewer, it's been two weeks._

"Go on," he says when he pulls away. "Do whatever it is you do with all that," he says, gesturing to David's two toiletry bags, "and unpack a bit. We can finish in the morning. Do you need any help?" David just shakes his head. "Okay. Come to bed when you're done." He gives David another small kiss, before climbing between the sheets.

He doesn't hear David move for a few moments, then he hears his soft footsteps as he gathers his more delicate knits and his toiletry bag. The last thing he remembers hearing is the click of the en suite door and the soft sounds of hangers shuffling in his master closet off the bathroom.

The bed dips next to him, stirring him awake.

"Fuck, I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," David assures him, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

"No, you came all this way-"

"It was nothing. A flight change for a diamond platinum flier is as easy as shooting a text to a dedicated airline assistant."

Patrick turns over. "Still, you didn't come here to sleep."

David reaches up to brush a hand over his cheek. "Patrick, I came here to see you. That's all."

He thinks he likes David in the dark, where he's less guarded.

He just nods and tucks himself under David's chin. Another place he's learned he fits perfectly.

He slots his legs between David's, curling into him, and inhales deeply. He's exhausted. Bone-tired and overworked, he's about to pass out right there. But still - David's skin is warm through his soft teeshirt under his arm, his hands on Patrick's back and the scent of his shampoo so overwhelming on his still-damp hair... and he feels himself getting hard.

"Patrick..."

He just shifts his hips closer in answer, his thigh rubbing against David's own hardness.

David's hand drops to his hip and moves inward, ghosting over him through his pajama pants. "Patrick, do you-"

"Please," he whispers.

He feels David nod, before his pants are being pushed down and off of him. David palms over his cock, rubbing against the underside gently. Patrick couldn't choke back the keening noise he makes, even if he wanted to.

"Fuck, Patrick..."

Patrick slides his thigh up a little more and David grinds against him. He brings a hand up and tries to dip it below David's waistband, but his limbs are heavy with exhaustion.

"Patrick, stop," David breathes against his lips. "I got it. I've got you."

He pushes down his own pajama pants and nudges Patrick onto his back. His hips stutter forward, pressing them together, his precome smearing against Patrick's hip.

Patrick watches as David's eyes glance up to his nightstand. "There's lube in both," he says, answering the question before David could even ask.

David reaches across to the closest table and digs around. He hesitates for a moment, then pulls out Patrick's vibrator, his eyes widening.

"Oh my god, it _is_ blue," David whispers with a soft laugh.

Patrick is about to beg for it when David places it back, murmuring, "Another time," against his lips. "Wanna use that when I can take my time with you."

Patrick is about to tell him he can take his time now, is about to beg for David to open him up with his tongue and then his hands and then the toy and then his perfect cock, but David is against him suddenly, squeezing lube into his palm and wrapping his hand around them both, pushing forward with his hips and pumping his fist tight around them.

David comes quickly and inelegantly, his hot breath against Patrick's ear as he whispers, "Fuck, Patrick, you look so good," and it feels so good and Patrick doesn't want it to be over, but David is using his own come to jerk Patrick off, still gripping his own softening and probably overstimulated cock against his, and he comes with a grunt of David's name.

Patrick doesn't even realize David has gotten up before he's back with a washcloth, kissing his neck as he cleans him off while he comes down.

"Shit, David," Patrick breathes.

"I know, that was-"

"No, I mean, _yes_ , but... I never changed the sheets after this morning." He cracks an eye open and sees David's nose scrunch. "I didn't have time, not after-"

"It's fine. We'll change them in the morning." David says with a wave of his hand. "Though you may just want to burn them now."

Patrick smiles and waits as David gingerly slides back between the sheets, before he curls into his side, leaning his head on David's chest, scratching his cheek lightly against the coarse hair there, loving how it feels on his skin.

"Thank you for coming, David."

He makes a noise like a snort, except it wasn't, because David Rose would never. "Yes, well, I guess I missed you," he says, softly.

Patrick is only half awake, but he can tell the sincerity is making David uncomfortable. "No, I meant thanks for coming on my dick, that was really hot."

David pinches his side, but Patrick can feel him smiling into his hair, and feels his arms wrap a little tighter around him.

"Go to sleep, Patrick."

"Yes, sir," he mumbles jokingly as he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks (Patrick uploads it to Instagram and David is unimpressed)  
> -Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen (Patrick uploads it at David request)  
> -Sucker by Jonas Brothers (Patrick plays it in Toronto before David calls)
> 
> All are in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	3. you drew stars around my scars (david)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend a week together in Toronto. Patrick meets the Roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, did you think there wouldn't be a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) for this?
> 
> i'll update it as each chapter is posted. this has all the songs mentioned through chapter three, so maybe a bit spoiler-y. so if you don't want to know what songs are coming up in this chapter, maybe check it out after you read.
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "cardigan" by taylor swift  
>   
>   
> 

David wakes up with a start, the surroundings all wrong.

The morning light is streaming in, even though he has blackout shades. His sunrise clock isn't chirping his calming birds-at-dawn alarm. His phone is vibrating. The bed is warm all around him, heat seeping in against his spine, across his waist, splayed over his stomach. His phone is vibrating.

Oh, right. He's in Toronto. With his... with Patrick.

His phone is vibrating.

"Shit," he mumbles, pulling himself out of bed (and out of the loose, warm circle of Patrick's strong arms, unfortunately) and grabbing his phone off Patrick's nightstand as he makes his way out into the hallway, softly closing the door behind him.

" _What_!" he hisses, swiping to answer the call.

"David! Thank god you're okay," his dad exclaims.

"Why wouldn't I be?!"

"I thought you weren't supposed to be in Toronto until tomorrow evening?"

"I'm not," he responds. If he can convince his parents he's still in New York, they won't hound him to come over until at least tomorrow, when his original flight is scheduled to land, and he will have two blissful days alone with Patrick.

"Well, when we got the flight manifest that you arrived last night, we got worried when you weren't here."

David presses his fist to his forehead. Of _course_ his dad would get the flight manifest, he was such an _idiot._

"I told you I wasn't staying with you this week."

"You did not tell us that," Johnny responds. "Why would you get a hotel? You should come here, your mother and I would love to have you. Where are you, we'll send a car for you."

"God, no, please don't."

"David, clearly there is _something_ going on-"

"Nothing is going on!" He says, maybe too loudly, considering Patrick is sleeping on the other side of the door. "I'm... I'm with a... a friend, and I couldn't change my flight so I took the plane, I didn't think it'd be a big deal since you're here _anyway_ , so... _You're welcome_ for bringing it back!"

"Yes, but why did you-"

"I just had to get here earlier, okay?!" He couldn't exactly tell his father that it's because Patrick had looked at him through his phone screen and told him he _missed him_. How Patrick had turned those big, earnest brown eyes of his onto him and told him, " _I really like you_." How Patrick had seemed to peer straight into his soul from 500 miles away and how David urgently had to just _be here_ with him, immediately.

"David, you can't just take the plane whenever you want without asking, there's a sign out sheet for a reason," Johnny says.

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry I took the plane, okay? I just had to get here last night and there wasn't a commercial flight!"

He hears the door open behind him and turns to see Patrick leaning against the doorframe, tight blue boxer briefs hugging his thighs _perfectly,_ eyes wide and amused.

"Well, if you're going to be using the plane, you could at _least_ come have dinner with your mother and I!"

"Great, fine, can we talk about this later? I'm busy."

He hangs up.

"You took a _private jet_ to get here?"

David waves him off. "Well, I-"

"You said you changed flights."

"There wasn't an available flight out yesterday! Okay!" He's exasperated. He wanted to wake up this morning slowly, maybe Patrick would wake him up with his mouth on his dick, or maybe he would make David coffee and bring it up and suck his dick while David drank it, or maybe he would roll out of the bed and into the shower, where David would join him and Patrick would drop to his knees and suck his dick.

Or maybe _he_ would wake up first, since Patrick had such an eventful day yesterday, and he would wake _Patrick_ up with a mind-blowing dick sucking.

Either way, being awoken at 7 o'clock by an _accusatory_ phone call from his father was _not_ how he planned to spend this morning.

Patrick pushes off the doorframe and slips his arms around David's waist. "Hey."

"What!"

"You stole your dad's private jet to come see me?" He asks, clearly amused.

David just huffs.

Patrick's eyes go soft and fond. "Instead of waiting for the next commercial flight, you... chartered a _private jet_ to come here last night."

"Mmm," David responds, tightly, refusing to look Patrick in the face. Of course he had! What did Patrick think would happen, that he could be all kind and look so _hopeful_ and tell David that he _missed him_ and David would just hang up and scroll Twitter? Read a book? No. He had to get here, he had to touch him, he-

"God, I really fucking like you, David," Patrick tells him, leaning in to kiss him.

David finds himself melting into it, his anger fading away, leaving behind the insecurity it was masking. "It's um, it's not too much?" He asks against Patrick's smile.

"Are you asking if it's _too much_ that you wanted to see me badly enough that you took a private plane here last night?"

He shifts uncomfortably in Patrick's arms, but he notices that he hasn't let go yet. "Yes?"

"David... that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, so no." He leans in to kiss along his collarbone. "No, it's not too much. _You're_ not too much." He pulls back, looking David in the eye. He has never felt more seen.

David pulls his lips in between his teeth, afraid his grin will give away just how absolutely _crazy_ he is about this man, and drops his chin to his chest.

"But..." David's head pops up. Oh god, oh _god_ , this is where Patrick tells him- "I was _really_ hoping I would be able to wake you up with a blowjob this morning, so what do you say we go back to bed and pretend we just woke up?"

Oh, that's... very preferable to what David thought he was going to say.

"Yes, yes, please."

\---

After breakfast ("Real breakfast, David, unfortunately, I can't survive on your come alone"), Patrick helps him unpack his other suitcase. He hands David hangers and clears a shelf for his knits, and it's not until he finishes stacking his folded sweaters that he sees the pile of blue shirts on the closet floor.

"What are those?"

"Oh, those are the clothes I had to take off hangers."

"Why?"

"I didn't have enough extras," he says with a shrug, picking up the pile and bringing it to the bed to fold. "I'll have to buy more for next time," he tosses over his shoulder, as casually as talking about the weather.

He feels guilty, kicking Patrick's clothes out of their home. But he knows that Patrick isn't _pretending_ that it's no big deal to him, that it _is_ no big deal to him. But to David it's... a kindness and acceptance he's never been shown. He's only staying here for a week, and he's managed to take over half of Patrick's walk-in closet and he didn't even bat an eye (though David can't help but notice that there is still _plenty_ of available space in here, and Patrick should really treat himself to some nice, new things once in a while). He didn't even hesitate to offer David _more_ room, when he feels like he's already occupying far too much space. David can't help but think that the way Patrick treats David's clothes is exactly how he treats David - offering him more room, to take up as much space as he wants.

And it _is_ a simple thing, Patrick taking his clothes off hangers to allow David to hang his wardrobe and offering to spend his money on more so he has enough for _next time_.

The fact that he is so sure there will be a _next time_ is also a simple thing.

But it's a simple thing David has never had.

He turns his back to Patrick and swallows around the lump in his throat as he composes himself.

\---

"You're guy?" The driver asks as they slip into the backseat that afternoon.

Patrick laughs. "Ivan, this is David. David, this is Ivan."

Ivan grunts.

"So this is guy?" He asks Patrick.

Patrick smiles. It's a soft, genuine thing. David wants to bottle it and take it out whenever he needs it. "Yeah, Ivan, this is him."

Ivan turns around to face David. "Patrick is good man," he tells him. "He deserve to be happy. You will make him happy?"

David feels his face pale a bit. His mind provides a vivid and wildly unhelpful image of Ivan burying his body in the woods. "I, um. I want to?"

Ivan grunts. "Patrick smile at phone all week. Is gross."

"Ivan!" Patrick chastises.

"You make him happy," he says. It's a demand, not an observation. Then he turns around and puts his sunglasses on and pulls away from the curb, apparently done with this conversation.

David feels Patrick slide his hand into his, their fingers lacing together loosely and it startles him.

He doesn't remember the last time someone just held his hand, before.

He glances over and Patrick's smile is wide and blinding, his eyes sparkling.

They drive for a bit until the song on the radio changes and David gasps. "Oh, I love this song!"

Patrick smirks at him. "Of course you do."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Celine, Whitney, Mariah... it makes sense."

"Okay, but listen to the _lyrics!"_

"Okay, David."

He closes his eyes and leans against Patrick's shoulder as Mariah sings about being a part of someone indefinitely.

He feels Patrick press a kiss to his hairline and he thinks _maybe_...

Then the song changes to something with too many acoustic guitars and the moment is broken, so he asks about Patrick's teammates. They spend the remainder of the drive going through the roster, which Patrick pulls up online to show headshots to David so he can start putting faces with stories.

"Then there's Ted, who is probably the nicest person you'll ever meet," Patrick tells him. "He makes a lot of puns. You'll hate him."

David snorts.

"Oh, and Mutt, who is... well, he's a bit of a hippie. He spent our off-season foraging for pinecones."

"Pinecones?"

"Mmhmm."

David plays with Patrick's fingers, staring intently at their hands when he asks, "Do they, um. Do they know about you?"

He feels Patrick shrug. "I've never had any reason to tell them."

His heart drops. "Oh..."

Patrick grazes his thumb over his knuckle. "Until now. I mean... I uh, I never had anyone worth telling them about. Until now."

It's big. Too big for David to let him carry it on his own, so lifts his head off of Patrick's shoulder and brings his other hand up to the side of his neck, pulling him in and kissing him deeply and thoroughly, enjoying the flex of his tendons, of his jaw, of his throat, under his fingers. _I'm here_ , he wants to press into Patrick's mouth. _I'm right here with you_.

Ivan clears his throat and Patrick pulls back.

David realizes they've made it to the stadium by Patrick's facial expression, shifting immediately from soft and fond, and a little dazed, to all business and focus.

He wishes he were at the receiving end of that look. It kind of turns him on.

"I'll see you after, yeah?"

David nods. "I will be here."

Patrick smiles at him and leans forward for another quick kiss before grabbing his bag from the floor and hopping out of the car. "See you then, David. Thanks, Ivan!"

Ivan grunts.

"Break a leg!" David calls as the door shuts and he watches Patrick laugh through the tinted windows before walking through the doors.

"You make him happy," he hears Ivan say. It's different than before. It sounds like a fact. As if he said the sky is blue, or that Burberry is overrated. But David looks up as Ivan pulls away from the curb to bring David around to the main entrance, and his face is blank.

He wonders if Ivan even spoke, or if the voice in his head just sounds like Ivan.

Either way, he believes it.

Somehow, he - the damaged mess he is - makes someone like Patrick Brewer happy.

And Patrick Brewer makes him happy.

Which is a startling thought to have as Ivan pulls up to the main entrance. It makes David stumble out of the car, barely remembering to throw a "thank you" over his shoulder at Ivan.

But he is.

Happy.

He didn't even realize he was capable of this kind of happiness. Of being happy with another person. Of being happy in a relationship. (Not that this is a relationship.)

But Patrick makes him really fucking happy.

Huh.

\---

It's the 9th... part?... of the game.

Patrick is next up, waiting in the wings, and David is stress-eating popcorn.

Not because he's stressed for Patrick, he has absolutely no idea what's happening in this game, but because the fucking Jumbotron keeps showing him when they pan to the crowd.

He realizes he maybe should've gone a bit more incognito, maybe not worn his white Christopher Kane face sweatshirt and signature sunglasses to a fucking baseball game.

He'd glanced at Twitter during... intermission? halftime?... and there were more than a few mentions of his name.

Toronto Blue Jays  
@BlueJays   
.@thedavidrose at Rogers Centre tonight, cheering on his home team!  
[image: GIF of David Rose standing and cheering in the VIP seats] 7:26 PM - 28 April 2018  276  1.2K 

_  
_

George Miller, CPA  
@george3756725   
@BlueJays didnt realize he was a fan! 7:49 PM - 28 April 2018  0  10 

_  
_

✨jen✨  
@jenlxo   
@george3756725 He sat next to me at a game in Boston last week! Maybe the World Series win made him a fan! #GoJays 7:53 PM - 28 April 2018  3  56 

_  
_

GO JAYS  
@bluejaysfan76   
.@thedavidrose is at his THIRD @BlueJays game of the season! He attended Game 4 against the @Yankees, Game 3 against @RedSox and now Game 2 against the @Indians!  
[image: David Rose watching the Yankees game last month]  
[image: David Rose takes a video with his phone as Patrick Brewer strikes out against the Red Sox in Boston]  
[image: David Rose sitting in the VIP seats with popcorn in hand at Rogers Centre] 8:07 PM - 28 April 2018  173  624 

_  
_

mark smith  
@marksmith1961   
@bluejaysfan76 figured he was @yankee stadium becuz he was a ny fan, forgt he was a canadain boy!!! #GOJAYS 8:18 PM - 28 April 2018  0  3 

_  
_

Cleveland Indians  
@Indians   
CORRECTION: @thedavidrose at Rogers Centre tonight, cheering on ~~his home~~ the AWAY team! RT @bluejays: .@thedavidrose at Rogers Centre tonight, cheering on his home team!  
[image: GIF of David Rose standing and cheering in the VIP seats] 8:32 PM - 28 April 2018  112  1.7K 

_  
_

Visit Toronto  
@visittoronto   
Who says you can't go home?  
[image: David Rose cheering in the VIP seats] 8:44 PM - 28 April 2018  12  49 

_  
_

He quickly switched over to Instagram and checked his tagged images. It was flooded with pictures from the game.

So, yeah. He's fucked.

He decided to follow the Blue Jays accounts (and will not feel shame, they post really good content of Patrick in his baseball costume) and retweeted the Visit Toronto photo. It's a flattering angle, and pretending he wasn't here would just make it seem like he has something to hide.

David Rose can be a baseball fan. He can!

But Patrick is at-bat and David gets to watch him in his delicious baseball pants as he crouches into position, so he forgets about his social media and watches.

The announcer is saying something about someone stealing third and second this inning and how the pressure is on. Which - what's an inning? David knows what the bases are, obviously, he's been to third with both Olsen twins, but they shouldn't be stolen. Consent is a requirement and can be revoked at any time, thank you very much.

But the stadium is uproarious and David can't help but cheer a little for his... Patrick. Even if he has no idea what's happening.

There's a loud crack and Patrick is off like a bullet, running through that dirt path in the middle of the court and the entire stadium explodes.

David realizes he's yelling and clapping before he can stop himself.

Patrick stops at the base he is sitting behind and David composes himself a bit, cheering like a grown up and clapping, but still standing. Patrick scans his row until his eyes land on David with a grin and a quick adjustment his hat before disappearing into the... bench... area.

David turns his eyes back to the Jumbotron and watches as Patrick dumps a water bottle over his head as his teammates thump him on the back.

It shouldn't be so hot, but David is still coming up with ways to reward him just the same.

\---

He's sitting patiently in the car and waiting for Patrick to finally leave the locker room, chatting idly with Ivan about the game.

"So that was called-"

"Home run."

"Oh, not a touchdown?"

"Touchdown is football."

"I thought that was a goal?"

Ivan grunts. " _American_ football."

"Got it. So then, Patrick makes a home r-"

"Hits."

"Patrick _hits_ a home run and the two guys on the pitch-"

"Bases."

"The two guys on the _bases_ also get in, so they scored _three_ home runs-"

"Just runs."

"Hmm?"

"Runs. Home run is only when person at bat go home. When players on bases go to home, is called run."

"O...kay..."

Ivan turns to face him. "You like him a lot."

David chokes on air. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You try hard to understand, for him. You like him."

He makes a neutral face and waves him off. "Sure, yeah, he's... it's whatever."

Ivan smirks at him in the mirror.

David tries to choke down a breath, but he can anticipate the panic attack that will creep up.

But it... doesn't?

The thought of liking Patrick - of _really_ liking him, and making this into A Thing... it just floats down and settles softly into his chest, no panic and no anxiety accompanying it. It just sits, unimposing, next to that newly-discovered Happiness, like they've been waiting for him to catch up.

Huh.

\---

He still wants to reward Patrick, so he eats him out until his jaw aches and Patrick comes all over the just-washed sheets, then lets Patrick suck him off when he begs for it.

It's not until he's coming down Patrick's throat that he allows the thought to cross his mind.

 _I could really fall for him if I'm not careful_.

For once, David doesn't _want_ to be careful. As he watches Patrick rest his head against the crease of his hip to catch his breath, eyes gazing stupidly and fondly up at David, he realizes that he _wants_ to let go, to _let_ himself fall. That he trusts Patrick enough to. That he knows Patrick will make sure he lands safely, that Patrick wouldn't let him free fall to his death at the bottom of this terrifying cliff they're standing on. That maybe Patrick would even hold out a hand and suggest they jump off the edge of it together, in tandem, into the depths below.

And maybe he falls asleep with his arms wrapped tight around him, holding him close.

\---

The days pass in a flurry of blowjobs and hand jobs and one very thorough use of Patrick's (honestly, _blue_ , for _fuck's_ sake) vibrator and shared showers and _so many loads of laundry_ washing the sheets, broken up only by meals, usually seated at Patrick's dining table ("If we eat every meal in bed we will never actually eat, David." "Speak for yourself."). But some nights, and some mornings, they eat lazily on the couch, David's feet in Patrick's lap, or Patrick sitting cross-legged and sideways on the couch, one knee resting on David's thigh.

David spends his evenings curled up on Patrick's couch, eating his groceries and watching him play baseball on his too-big TV. It's comfortable and domestic.

David loves it.

They talk a lot, about their passions, about how Patrick loves baseball, but sometimes wishes he had pursued music, about how David loves curating but still wishes he has pursued art more seriously himself. David shows him some sketches, of his sister, of New York, of the cherry blossoms at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, of his favorite meals, and watches as Patrick's eyes roam the pages, drinking in every stroke of graphite.

He decidedly does _not_ show Patrick the more recent sketches, of sparse eyebrows and wide eyes, of strong noses and soft lips, of wide palms and thick fingers, of calloused fingertips tangled up with manicured hands adorned with four silver rings.

On the fifth evening, Patrick accidentally reveals that he composes music, too, and David begs to hear something.

"I, um... I dunno, I've never played anything before, I-"

"Patrick, please? I would love to hear it."

Patrick looks at him and David has to force himself not to hide away his sincerity. It's a reflex at this point, but he wants Patrick to know he means it, that he won't judge him.

Patrick sighs, and moves from the couch to grab his guitar. "I um, I wrote this last fall, when I finally realized..."

He trails off. David just nods, understanding.

Patrick fiddles with the instrument for a few more moments, idly strumming, before stalling, "I wrote it on the piano actually, so it might be a little-"

"Patrick. You don't have to play it if you're not comfortable."

He shakes his head. "No, I-I want to, it's just..." David sits, patiently, and waits. Patrick looks at the neck of the guitar for another moment, before he starts picking at the strings. " _It's mostly in the morning, when your eyes ain't opening,_ " his voice starts, softly. Beautifully. " _It's mostly that you won't even try. And it's mostly in the gutter, with your voice broke, you sing - it's mostly to yourself, that you lie._ " He takes a breath. " _You say, 'fuck it man, you're better off, it's better this way,' you're mostly in the shadows and that's fine..._ "

And Patrick is... beautiful. More beautiful than anything David has ever seen, and he curates art for a living.

David has lived a charmed life, but he has never felt luckier than he does in this moment.

David doesn't realize he's started crying until Patrick is blurry.

Patrick picks out a few more chords and lets them fade out before he looks up.

David just wraps a hand around his neck and pulls him in for a soft kiss. _I care about you_ , he hopes it says. _You are important and valued and I'm so proud of you for figuring this out for yourself._

He feels Patrick's shuddering exhale against his lips, feels Patrick's shoulders slump out from under whatever weight he was carrying, feels Patrick's tears fall onto David's nose where it's pressed into his cheek, and he says nothing. He just gives him this.

And later, when he drops to his knees in Patrick's bedroom, pressing "You're so beautiful"'s into his skin, he just prays that Patrick believes him.

After, and just as he's slipping under into sleep, David realizes he hasn't left Patrick's condo since the first day and wonders why he isn't more stir crazy.

He tells himself it's because he knows the next day belongs to his parents and he's dreading it, even though he knows it's actually because he's just really fucking comfortable here, wrapped up in Patrick.

\---

**iMessage:** Dad  
  
**Today** 11:07 AM  
**Dad:** Hi son. Are you bringing that friend you're staying with to brunch today? We would love to meet them. Let me know. Love, Dad  


  


David spits his toothpaste in the sink. "My parents want to meet you," he calls over his shoulder, feeling safe to admit it to Patrick through a wall.

"When?" Patrick calls back.

David sighs and steps out of the bathroom. Patrick is lounging on the bed, book in hand, in nothing but a pair of heather grey boxer briefs. David sends a quick thank you to the universe for blessing him with this sight.

"I think it's more of an abstract thing. They know I'm staying with someone but not what... they just want to meet you."

Patrick places the book down and reaches a hand out, pulling David over to the bed. David pitches forward with a laugh, landing mostly on top of Patrick. He attempts to roll away, not wanting to crush him, but Patrick holds his waist firmly and drops a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. "I'd love to meet your family, David."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was a big _Sunrise Bay_ fan."

David rolls his eyes.

Patrick just kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him, until David forgets why he's dressed (and doesn't care about wrinkling his favorite Neil Barrett sweater) and Patrick isn't.

"I'm serious though," Patrick whispers, just as David thinks about pulling away so he can peel his sweater off.

"Mm?" He asks, leaning in for another kiss.

"I'd love to meet your parents."

Oh. Right. _That_ was the conversation.

He pulls back and rolls to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. "Okay but you realize that would out you to them? And I already accidentally outed you to Stevie, I don't want to-"

"David. Just because I'm not ready to be appointed as the liaison to the MLB's Diversity and Inclusion Initiative doesn't mean you can't tell the people you care about about us." Patrick runs a fingertip along David's jaw, and he couldn't stop the shiver if he tried. "This isn't some... illicit affair, I don't want to be a politician meeting you in airport bathrooms, okay?

"Okay," David whispers.

Patrick presses a kiss to his forehead. David's eyes go a little misty, though he will deny it. "Just let me know when and where, I'll be there," he says, lips brushing David's hairline.

David just nods.

"Do you want to eat before you go?"

He pulls back to look at Patrick, seeing a hint of mischief in his nearly overwhelming gaze. "Do I want to eat before I go to my parents' house for brunch? Yes. Yes, of course I do," he says with a laugh as he pulls Patrick from the rumpled sheets.

\---

"So, son, I didn't realize you were such a baseball fan," his dad starts as soon as they're seated. "This will be, what, your fourth game this season?"

David nods, shoving another bite of waffle into his mouth.

"When did you get so into baseball?"

David shrugs, taking another bite.

"David, your father is inquiring about your uncharacteristic hyperfixation with this particular display of athleticism, the very least you could do is engage in the conversation," his mother says, lifting her mug to her lips and taking an imperceptible sip.

"I don't care about baseball."

It isn't _strictly_ true. He likes watching Patrick play, which surprises him. He's dated athletes in the past and has never enjoyed watching a game in his life.

Well, he's _hooked up with_ athletes in the past, at least.

"Well, you must like it a _little_ bit, if you flew the jet up here just to take in a couple games."

David shrugs again.

"David?"

He keeps eating, but he can feel his parents' eyes on him. "David."

"Oh my _god_ , fine! Fine!" He yells, his utensils clattering against his plate. "I'm dating someone on the team, but he's still _very much_ in the closet, so we are _not_ talking about this because _neither_ of you can keep a secret!"

"It's a bit early in the morning for character assassination!" His mother exclaims.

"It's almost noon, and you're the one who posted a video to Instagram reading the final monologue of the _Sunrise Bay_ reboot a month before the show even premiered!"

"Yes, well-"

"And you!" He says, turning to face his father. "You gave that interview to the _Wall Street Journal_ and told them about Alexis' breakup with Stavros!"

"In my defense-"

David waves his hands. "No! No, we are not doing this, okay? This is too important to me to let you two in on it."

He can see that he hurt them the second he says it.

"I didn't mean..."

"It's fine, dear." His mother says flatly, pushing her chair back from the table and striding away.

He turns to his father. "Dad..."

His dad's eyes are shining and his lips quirk up in a false smile. "I know we haven't always been the perfect parents, son. But we've tried to do our best for you and your sister." Johnny swallows and David can tell he's trying not to cry.

David sighs. "Mom?" he calls.

Moira glides back into the room, her back ramrod straight, heels clacking on the marble floor. "Now I am being _summoned_ by my spiteful offspring?"

It takes every ounce of self-control David has not to roll his eyes. "I'm sorry. His name is Patrick, and I... I really like him, okay? And we haven't even... he isn't even my boyfriend. It's so new, but it... it means a lot to me. _He_ means a lot to me." He takes a deep breath. "And if anyone finds out about us, it would out him, and he deserves to do that on his terms, when he's ready. So just... _Please_ , don't mention it, okay? To anyone?"

He looks over to see his father's eyes even wetter than before, and his mother's lips pulled taut, fighting a smile.

"Oh my _god_ , you're dating _Patrick Brewer_?!" He hears from behind him. "He's like, the cutest little thing I've ever seen! Oh my _god, David!"_

Alexis bounds over to him and wraps her arms around his neck.

"What are you _doing_ here?!" He asks after she pulls away.

Alexis lifts a finger to boop his nose. He doesn't catch it in time. "Dad invited me to the game."

David looks at his dad in betrayal. "You're both in town, I thought it could be fun to take my kids to a ball game."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine, but we're _not_ there for Patrick, is that clear?"

His father and Alexis both nod. His mother is already back to reading her paper and sipping her coffee.

God, he hopes he didn't just fuck everything up.

\---

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 12:37 PM  
**David:** they want you to come over for dinner after the game  
  
**David:** feel free to say no  
  
**David:** they can be a lot  
  
**Today** 1:42 PM  
**David:** actually you know what forget it  
  
**David:** lets just go back to your place after instead  
  
**Today** 2:20 PM  
**Patrick:** I'd love to have dinner with your family, David.  
  
**David:** ugh fine well pick you up after the game  
  
**David:** give ivan the night off  
  
**David:** but dont say i didnt warn you  
  


  


\---

He checks Instagram when the visiting team from some flyover state is at bat and sees that he was tagged in the Blue Jay's story.

**Messages with** BlueJays  
  
**BlueJays:** [image: Johnny Rose, in a private box seat, waving a foam finger. To his right sits David Rose, wearing large sunglasses, a box of popcorn in his lap, Alexis Rose's head on his shoulder.]  
  
**BlueJays:** The gang's all here! Glad to have **@thedavidrose** **@alexis** and **@johnny_rosebudmotels** cheering on the home team! (We assume Moira is still trapped in her underwater cave, right **@SunriseBayInterflix**?)  


  


He reposts it to his own story, adding "mom is out of the underwater cave but unfortunately is in her third coma after her sisters evil twin poisoned her absinthe so she couldnt make it"

The Blue Jays immediately repost it, with the words "SPOILER WARNING!!!" in large text over the entire screen.

"Oh my god, David! _So_ cute!" Alexis says when she opens the notification.

She reposts it too, with the caption "Family Fun Day with @thedavidrose and @johnny_rosebudmotels! Missing Mom, but she'll wake up soon, we hope, but not if @nicolekidman has anything to say about it!" and about a hundred emojis that make no sense to David.

He's mad that he's having so much fun at a baseball game, watching... the guy he's fucking... adjust his hat (46 times now by David's count) from his dad's private box with catered food (and okay, how did he not know this was a thing, he would've physically been at every game instead of sitting on Patrick's sofa trying to understand what was happening on screen and googling every play), with his sister leaning her head on his shoulder.

When Patrick catches another ball and ends the inning and David shakes his fists with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, Alexis props her chin on his shoulder and whispers to him, "This is a super cute look for you, David," while booping him on the nose.

He actually thinks he agrees.

\---

They're all in the car waiting for Patrick outside the players' entrance, Johnny trying desperately to engage with David and Alexis about the game while they idly check social media.

"How about that catch from Schitt though, eh? The way he-"

David takes pity on him. "Dad. I had a shockingly fun time at the game with you both, but I truly do not know anything about baseball, so maybe you can save this enthusiasm so you have something to talk to Patrick about? It'll actually be nice to have someone around who understands all his nerdy post-game stats talk that he always comes home _raving_ about."

"Oh, _home_ , David?" Alexis needles.

"Shut up, you know what I meant."

"I don't think I do, why don't you explain it to me?"

"Kids," Johnny warns, and the family falls silent.

Still, Alexis reaches out and taps his knee, offering him a pleased smile.

Finally, Patrick walks out with Ted, chatting animatedly.

David can't make out what they're saying, but watches as Patrick shakes his head and gestures to their car.

Ted glances over and his smile falls a bit.

Patrick's smirk is telling, and David makes a mental note to ask what happened when they're alone later.

Sven hops out to open the door for Patrick, who laughs lightly. "Thanks, man," he says, sliding in next to Alexis as the door closes behind him.

"Nice suit." He says, leaning over Alexis to run a hand along the lapel.

"Thanks." They maintain eye contact for a moment, before Patrick is introducing himself politely to Johnny and Alexis.

David sits back as they fawn over him on the ride home, Johnny showering him with praise about the game, Alexis offering advice on how to increase engagement on his Instagram. Not that he needs it.

He lets them chat, Patrick telling them a cute, but canned, anecdote about playing catch with his dad and his uncle when he was a kid, and his dad tells Patrick about David's little league game. Singular.

"Please tell me you have photos."

"Not a chance," David interjects, glancing up from his phone to meet Patrick's soft expression.

He bites back a smile.

When they finally pull through the gates at Rose Manor and step out of the car, he reaches for Patrick's arm to hold him back.

"We'll be right in," he tells them, and waits until they're inside (ignoring Alexis' two-eyed wink as she passes) before wrapping his arms around Patrick's neck and pulling him in for a kiss. "Hi."

"Hi," Patrick whispers into David's mouth.

He pulls back just a bit and he can tell that Patrick is distracted, his eyes immediately darting back to the imposing house.

"Hey," David says, nudging him. "I know this is a lot, but really, they're just like anyone else's embarrassing family. They're going to make inappropriate jokes about our sex life and tell humiliating stories about me and show you pictures of my old nose."

Patrick laughs, leaning forward to press a small kiss to the tip of his nose. "Can't wait."

David melts.

"Patrick, if it gets to be too much, just tell me, and we can-"

He cuts him off with a firm, light kiss, before pulling away. "David," He says, bracing his hands on either side of his face. "I told you. Nothing about you is too much, okay?" He brushes a kiss against the corner of David's mouth where he hides his smiles. "Besides, I've seen your old nose."

Before David can even register it, Patrick is dropping his hands and walking up the stairs to the doors.

"Wait, what?! When?!"

\---

Dinner is uneventful and delicious, and Patrick is charming and patient with his family.

Adelina had cooked, and Johnny _insists_ she join them, and it's surprisingly nice, to have all these people he cares about in one place.

It's just missing-

"Ah, Stevie! Finally!" David hears his dad say.

He’s out of his seat in an instant, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing her tightly. He may have seen her a few weeks ago, but they don't get to visit each other as often as he'd like. And he did kind of sexile her to a hotel the last time he saw her.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to be in town?!"

She pats his back awkwardly. "I really don't think we need to hug this much, David."

"Mm, no, Patrick here has made him soft."

"Quite the opposite actually, Alexis," David snarks back as he pulls out of the hug, and Patrick's face goes beet red, his eyes wide.

And, okay, yeah, maybe not the joke to make when this... thing... with Patrick is so new, but it's what their family _does_ and no one else seems at all phased by it.

Plus, he's not about to let Alexis reduce the hottest man he's ever known to a glorified golden retriever, not when she has spent his whole life teasing him about how quickly his relationships seem to lose their spark.

Not that this is a relationship.

"Gross," Stevie says.

"Stevie, dear, have a seat, I'll make you a plate," Adelina says, standing and going into the kitchen.

Stevie drops into the chair next Patrick and immediately takes a forkful of his potatoes and shoves them into her mouth.

"Oh, by all means..."

Stevie glances up, her eyes narrowing.

Patrick pushes his plate toward her and she digs in. When Adelina comes out with another plate, Patrick graciously accepts it and starts eating.

"That's mine," Stevie says around a mouthful of steak.

"Is it? It looks like you have a plate already, and, well, I don't, so."

She glances at David. "I like him," she says, then looks back at Patrick and narrows her eyes again. "I like you."

She goes to swap plates, now that he's passed her weird test, but he pulls it out of her reach. Stevie grins.

David feels his heart expand just a little.

"So, Stevie, how'd it go in Michigan?"

She swallows down a bite of bread, "Mm, really well, Mr. Rose. We got the Isle Royale."

Johnny claps. "Ah ha! That's great news! Excellent job, Stevie!"

Patrick joins in on their business talk easily, and David turns to his mother, Alexis and Adelina and chats about the galleries.

"Oh, and David, I received the most curious email from my publicist, inquiring as to my interest in participating in a photoshoot with Sebastien Raine next month."

He freezes. "And you said no, right?"

"I have not yet replied to the correspondence, as I wanted to confer with you first."

"How thoughtful of you," he deadpans.

He feels Patrick's hand come to at his elbow and it relaxes him, just a bit.

He realizes the table is silent.

David sighs, placing his knife and fork down calmly, and asks plainly, "Please say no."

Moira studies him for a moment, her eyes searching. "David, you..." She sniffs. Whatever she was going to say was gone now. "Very well. I will reject his proposal."

"Thank you." He glances at his plate and feels the burn in his throat. "Excuse me," he says, pushing back from the table and walking out of the dining room.

He can feel Patrick following him before he hears him.

"Hey," Patrick says, placing one palm flat between his shoulder blades.

Once again, David assumes he's going to panic. A year ago, Sebastien's name would have sent him spiraling.

But then his father and Stevie's motel empire exploded and Alexis moved to New York and his mother got a job that makes her feel powerful and Adelina was able to come back to work and he curated his show and worked through his trauma and opened to rave reviews and suddenly his life didn't seem as unstable as it once did.

And then he met Patrick.

"Can I ask you something without you judging me?"

"You can ask me anything, David."

"Can you just give me a hug?"

Patrick just wraps his arms around him, right there in the middle of the foyer, his lips pressing a quick kiss to that place on David's neck that he's already claimed entirely for himself.

"A few years ago, she wouldn't have even asked," he says into Patrick's shoulder. "We, um. We've gotten a lot better, recently."

Patrick rubs a hand up and down David's back, squeezing him with his other arm. "Is he... the photographer, was he the guy from the gallery?"

David nods and squeezes him back, wanting to draw comfort from Patrick for as long as he is willing to offer it.

"I'm glad she's not working with him, then," Patrick says, matter of factly.

Like it's that simple.

And maybe it is.

Maybe David's past doesn't have to hang over him like a raincloud.

And maybe Patrick really does want him as he is now, no matter how he got here.

It's a heady thought.

"I'm sorry if this is-"

"David, I swear to God, if you say 'too much,' I'm going to make you sleep here tonight."

He smiles into Patrick's neck. "We should get back."

\---

They say their goodbyes after dessert and a rousing game of Charades, which featured a few too many lewd hand gestures from Stevie.

His dad insists they let Sven take them home, Stevie tagging along to save on Uber fare.

"You're the COO of a multimillion dollar corporation and you're still bumming rides from me?" David asks.

"Sven is a Rosebud Group employee, so technically, _you_ are mooching, here," Stevie shoots back.

Patrick laughs lightly, tiredly.

"Oh, don't think _you're_ off the hook just because you're sleeping with my best friend. I looked up the terms of your contract renewal, you _definitely_ shouldn't be mooching rides from us."

"I-" Patrick starts, but never finishes his thought.

David hooks his arm around Patrick's elbow and props his chin over his shoulder, feeling affectionately tipsy after three gin cocktails.

He feels Patrick lean back against him a bit, and realizes maybe he's not the only one who feels like they've had to go too long tonight without touching.

It makes his lips quirk up in a smile.

When they pull up to Patrick's condo, David slides out first, turning to offer a hand to Patrick, who is officially half-asleep.

Over Patrick's shoulder, David sees Stevie smile, point at Patrick, and give him a thumbs up.

He smiles back at her.

"Night, Stevie, Night, Sven," Patrick mumbles.

They both ignore him.

David gets Patrick inside and upstairs, and pushes him into the bathroom to brush his teeth, while David does his skincare at the other sink.

He's patting in his vitamin C serum when Patrick steps over and wraps his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. "I'll see you in there?"

"I do have to sleep somewhere, Patrick," David says and pats his hand where it rests on his stomach.

Patrick laughs, drops another kiss to his shoulder, and walks back into the bedroom.

When David has finally finished his routine and changed into his pajamas, he slides between the sheets and slips an arm over Patrick's bare waist, pulling him back against his chest.

Patrick turns his head to kiss him lightly before burrowing back into his pillow. "Night, David."

"Goodnight, Patrick."

Patrick scoots back a hair to press his spine further into David's chest and almost immediately starts snoring.

It occurs to David that this is the first sexless sleepover he's ever had with someone he's dating.

It's really fucking nice, actually. He just hopes it doesn't mean Patrick is losing interest.

\---

When Patrick wakes him up with his mouth the next morning, David realizes he has no reason to worry.

He does start to worry about the fact that this is the last morning he gets to wake up lazily here, as his flight leaves in less than 24 hours.

Then Patrick is on the road for two weeks.

It's kind of pathetic. His dick is currently in Patrick's mouth, but he already misses him.

\---

The Blue Jays lose that night, and Patrick comes home with his shoulders hunched, until he spots the takeout containers on the counter.

"You got dinner?"

David glances back to the TV, where he was watching the post-game highlights, and shrugs. "Yeah, I figured you'd want something carby and salty."

Patrick is just looking at him with those wide eyes.

"Did I get the order wrong?"

Patrick shakes his head. "No, no, this is... this is perfect." Patrick steps into the living room with the bag and drops a kiss to David's lips. "You're perfect," he whispers.

David brushes it off. "Hardly. Now eat, cold lo mein is disgusting."

Patrick just smiles at him and grabs the remote, not wanting to relive the loss.

They eat and make it through a surprisingly decent portion of a Julia Roberts movie before hands and lips wander. David is tracing soft circles into Patrick's hip with one finger, the other hand reverently tracing the muscles along his spine as Patrick mouths at David's neck.

Then he whispers into his ear, "David... I want you to fuck me," and he's powerless to do anything but pull Patrick upstairs by the hand, push him onto the bed, and unwrap him like the goddamn gift he is. He teases him with his tongue until he's begging for it, then slips one, two, three fingers inside until Patrick is almost weeping, and then he finally, _finally_ pushes into him. It's a revelation.

Some absolutely insane part of his brain thinks, " _David Rose, sliding into home_ ," in the voice of that obnoxious announcer he's been listening to all week on Patrick's couch, and he almost laughs.

Except that it absolutely does feel like home.

 _Patrick_ feels like home.

"Oh my god, David, I swear to God if you don't move, I'll-"

He doesn't let Patrick finish the thought, as he drives into him, hard and fast and steady, his eyes fixed on Patrick's face. He has one hand on Patrick's calf, holding his leg up over his shoulder, bringing the other hand up to stroke his cheek. Patrick's eyes flutter shut as he chases the hand with his mouth, pulling David's thumb between his teeth and groaning around it.

David watches rapt as Patrick's brows knit, feels his breath hitching against his hand as Patrick kisses each of his fingertips before swiping the tip of his tongue across the pad of his thumb and pulling it back between his teeth, biting down with just enough pressure to make David moan. When Patrick finally releases his thumb, looks him in the eye, and tells him he's about to come, David drops his hand to work him through it and Patrick cries his name like a desperate prayer and it's the best goddamn thing David has ever heard or seen or experienced in his entire life.

He comes right after, choking around Patrick's name, his eyes locked on his, and feels something shift inside him at the look on Patrick's face.

He's had a lot of sex - good sex, great sex, mind-blowing sex... but it has never been like this. He's never felt cared for. He's never felt _precious._

He collapses onto Patrick's chest and lets himself blame his ragged breaths on a thorough fucking.

After he cleans them both up and tucks Patrick against his side while they hold each other tightly, he thinks about how different this is than anything he's ever felt.

He wonders how he'll survive when he inevitably loses it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh is it cliche to use noah music for patricks originals? doing it anyway.
> 
> \--  
> Music in this chapter:  
> -Always Be My Baby by Mariah Carey (This song plays in the car on the way to Patrick's game)  
> -Mostly to Yourself by Noah Reid (The original song Patrick plays for David)
> 
> All are in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	4. i don't know anything but i know i miss you (patrick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distance makes things harder, but Patrick is a problem-solver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading this, I really can't get over the response to this!
> 
> The [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated to include music from this chapter.
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "betty" by taylor swift  
>   
>   
> 

Patrick wakes up, deliciously sore, arms wrapped around David, five minutes before his alarm is supposed to go off.

He sighs. In five minutes, David will wake up and pack his suitcase while Patrick makes them breakfast.

Then David will get an Uber to the airport and go back to New York, while Patrick heads to the Midwest for ten days.

He's had him in his space for the last week, fallen asleep in his arms every night, kissed him when he woke up each morning. He doesn't want to go back to _not_ being with David Rose every day.

So he takes the opportunity to look at him, to drink him in, to memorize the feel of his arm thrown loosely over Patrick's waist, the light scent of sweat on his skin, the contrast of his olive skin against Patrick's white sheets, the fall of his curls against his pillow, the slightly longer stubble on his chin, his talented mouth slack with sleep, his eyelashes sweeping across his high cheekbones. He commits it all to memory, not knowing when he will get to see this again, get to have this again.

Even though he's known he was gay for a while (he thoroughly enjoyed his dirty London pub bathroom hand job, more than any sexual encounter he ever had with a woman, despite being a certified Relationship Guy™️), meeting David changed everything.

He's _happy_ now. David makes him feel safe, makes him feel seen. He supports him, in his career, in his music, in his coming out, in his every day mundanity. He's shown it every day in a hundred different ways that Patrick could never even begin to thank him for.

David is strong, he's brave, he's smart, and he's _good_ (he's definitely not nice, but Patrick thinks maybe that's something David can teach him, how to stop being such a fucking people-pleaser all the time).

He makes him _want_ to come out, to be brave, to tell people, "this is who I am, and fuck you if you think you get any say in the matter."

He's still not ready, but he thinks he could be. Soon. That if he can just glean a little more bravery and fuck-youitude from David, he could be.

The thought of more time, of more David, makes him smile. Patrick is so fucking into him. How could be not be? David is a revelation, and Patrick just hopes he's enough to keep someone as interesting as David in his queen sized bed in his suburban condo.

Then he remembers the way David looked at him as he came inside of him last night and he thinks that somehow, by some miracle of the universe, he just might be.

He's so not ready for this week to be over.

He sighs. _One minute_.

He rests his chin on David's chest and watches him breathe - once, twice - before he leans in for a passionate kiss, waking David before his obnoxious alarm can blare.

David responds in kind, slowly rousing from sleep before taking charge, rolling over on top of Patrick, enveloping him, grinding down with his hips, before -

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

"Fuck!" David exclaims, reaching over to turn it off with a groan.

Patrick laughs and leans up to kiss him. "Pack, take a shower, do what you have to do. I'm gonna make us breakfast."

"But-"

He kisses him. "If you finish fast enough, I'll blow you while you eat waffles."

"Holy _shit_ , Patrick, how did you know my ultimate fantasy?"

He laughs again. "Lucky guess." He lightly swats at David's hip. "Now go!"

David grumbles but slides out from between the sheets, still gloriously nude, and shuts the bathroom door behind him.

Patrick pads downstairs and makes half a pot of coffee for David and a tea for himself, and starts assembling the waffle ingredients. Once the coffee finishes, he pours a mug and brings it upstairs, depositing it on the bathroom counter while David packs up his toiletries.

"Ugh, you are the best person I have ever met and I adore you," David tells him sleepily, reaching for the mug with greedy hands.

Patrick kisses his temple. "Likewise."

He watches as David closes his eyes and lifts the mug to his lips and takes a small sip, humming in contentment as the corners of his lips quirk up, pulling his lips in between his teeth.

David looks relaxed and comfortable here in his condo, doing his morning skincare at Patrick's unused second sink in the bathroom off his bedroom, where they spent the last seven nights wrapped up in each other. David looks _happy_.

And Patrick realizes how easy it would be to fall in love with him. That he's definitely _starting_ to fall a little in love with him.

And that he's really fucking excited about it.

He smiles and kisses David lightly on the cheek before returning downstairs to make them breakfast.

When David finally breezes down the stairs with his weekender and one suitcase ("You're the one kicking me out, the least you can do is grab the other two." "I'm not kicking you out!" "Mmhmm, tell that to my flight confirmation."), Patrick has finished their waffles and bacon and is spooning sliced strawberries onto their plates.

And yeah, he crawls under the table and takes David in his mouth as he eats his breakfast and laughs at him, the exasperated laughter soon giving way to gasps and bitten-off groans. He lets his own breakfast get cold, not ready to wash the taste of David off his tongue just yet, wanting it to linger as long as possible.

Maybe even longer than David lingers in his kitchen, prolonging the inevitable as he fiddles with his phone, decidedly _not_ ordering his car.

"David, you're going to miss your flight."

"I have pre-check, it's fine."

"David."

David just studies his cuticles in the way he does when he's avoiding saying something.

"David?"

"What?" He snaps.

"Is there something going on?"

Weren't things good? Last night, he... no. Things are good, Patrick just needs to breathe.

"David?" He prompts.

He watches as David wrings his hands, his body shimmying with the effort of holding back on what he wants to say. "Okay, fine! I just... We haven't _talked_ about this yet, and I don't even know how to... I've never _been_ in this situation before, and we haven't talked about if we want to keep seeing each other or if we're seeing other people or when we're going to see each other next and I just," he purses his lips and balls his hands into fists. "I don't want this to be _it_ , okay?!"

Patrick is dumbfounded. He knows his expression is taking over his entire face, his eyebrows as high as they will go, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. "Wow, okay..." He says, letting out a little laugh of relief.

David waves him off, a slight flush climbing onto his perfect cheekbones as he fumbles for his phone. "Forget it, I-I have to catch my flight, I-"

Patrick steps forward and blocks him, gripping the counter on either side of David's hips with both hands and leans forward to kiss him gently. "I want to keep seeing you," he mumbles against his mouth. "I'm not seeing other people," he says, moving his lips to that spot he loves just under his ear. "I don't _want_ to see other people," he tells him, before nipping lightly on his skin and explaining, "I don't want _either_ of us to see other people." He mouths down the thick muscle of David's neck, his words coming out barely as a whisper on his exhale. "And I _really_ don't want this to be it for us, either."

He feels David swallow, the movement pushing his throat against Patrick's lips. "Well. Okay, then."

"Come to California next week?" He means to say it with confidence, but he can hear the pitch in his voice. He hates that David has to keep putting in the effort to see him and he's too much of a coward to even take him out when he arrives.

He pushes the thought away and mouths openly at David's neck. He still hasn't touched his breakfast, the bitter taste of David's come still on the back of his tongue, mixing now with the clean taste of David's skin.

He doesn't know how he's supposed to go back to eating real food after tasting this.

"I... could... maybe be persuaded to visit San Francisco next week, if given the proper motivation."

Patrick's stomach flips with the knowledge that David must have looked up his schedule if he knows what city he'll be in. "Mm? What kind of motivation can I give you?"

"Well, like, do you know of any place I could stay? A nice hotel with room service, maybe? Preferably one that comes with a guy that would maybe be willing to let me suck him off in said hotel's jetted bathtub?"

Patrick smirks, lips pressed to the hollow of David's throat. "You know, I know just the place, and I even happen to already have a reservation."

"Mm, that's great."

He presses his hips into David's, his hardness pushing into his thigh. "Any other motivations I can provide?"

David hums. "Do you know of any sporting events happening? I'm a big fan of the Blue Jays and their super cute outfielder. Do you know if they'll be in town? I'd love to catch a game."

He laughs, "You know, I think they might be. I even know some people that could probably get you a ticket."

David gasps sarcastically. "Gee whiz, you'd do that for me?"

Patrick drops all pretense, barking out a surprised laugh at David's turn of phrase.

They spend a moment there, pressed together and laughing, until the time crunch seems too real, and Patrick wraps his arms around him and holds him tight, squeezing him a little harder than he thinks is probably comfortable. "I'm gonna miss you," he mumbles into David's shoulder.

"Me too," David whispers back.

Patrick holds on for another moment, before pulling back and stepping out of David's orbit. He watches David pull out his phone and tap at the screen as he pours him a coffee to go.

"My car will be here in five minutes," David says, thickly.

Patrick nods. He feels so stupid that his heart is being squeezed like this. He's going to see him in San Francisco. It's only ten days.

He feels David behind him and turns, his hands immediately coming to rest on David's waist, David's arms dropping loosely over his shoulders. "Make out with me until it gets here?"

Patrick doesn't need to be asked twice, immediately pushing forward to kiss David right there in his kitchen, the taste of his come and his skin mixing with the taste of his lip balm and the syrup on his tongue, and _seriously_ how is he ever supposed to eat again after tasting this?

He tries to reassure David with this kiss, that all of the insecurities David spewed out in his speech earlier are unfounded. "I'm so fucking crazy about you, David Rose," he murmurs.

"Likewise."

He kisses him again and again until David's phone chimes, indicating that his car is arriving soon.

They pull away and pile David's bags on his porch, and Patrick pulls him into the mudroom off the front door for one more lingering kiss. They hear the car pull up, and Patrick hands him the travel mug.

"This is yours," David says, his upper lip curling in distaste at the sight of the Blue Jays novelty travel mug.

"Guess you'll have to bring it to California for me."

David bites back a smile, his mouth twisting in that way Patrick loves, and nods gently, leaning forward to press one last soft kiss to Patrick's lips. "I'll see you in California," he tells him, before gliding gracefully out of Patrick's front door.

Patrick is glad no one is there to see him press against the kitchen window, watching as David's car disappears around the corner, even if he does see David's hand stick out the window in a wave as the car takes the turn.

He's so fucking gone on this guy and it's only been a month.

Oh, _fuck_ , it's been a month?

Patrick scrambles with his phone to triple-check the date, even though he had been counting down and dreading it since David showed up on his doorstep.

Patrick has to get ready and pack himself, having ignored his own travel plans to give David the space to pack his things, but he has to take care of this first, hoping he's not too late for a same-day delivery.

His phone chimes with a message from David as he's hanging up with the florist a few minutes later, and he quickly switches over to their text chain like Pavlov's dog.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 9:14 AM  
**David:** IMG_4236.jpg  
  
**David:** does this flight work?  
  
**Patrick:** That's perfect :)  
  
**David:** it isnt too much?  


Patrick smiles. He really nailed his gift.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**David:** it isnt too much?  
**Patrick:** No, David. It's perfect. I can't wait to see you, I miss you already.  
  


He knows it's stupid, David left five minutes ago. But then again, David already bought a flight to come see him, so he can only assume he immediately pulled up options the second he left. Maybe David feels half as crazy about Patrick as he feels about him.

The thought makes him smile.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** No, David. It's perfect. I can't wait to see you, I miss you already.  
  
**David:** me too x  
  


His smile widens and he gets to work on part two of this gift.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 2:35 PM  
**David:** celeb-news.com/top-news/reality-tv/david-rose-jfk-05-04-18.htm  
  
**David:** mad @ you  
  
**Patrick:** Can't imagine why, you look VERY cute.  
  
**David:** its your fault the paparazzi got photos of me carrying a BLUE JAYS mug at jfk!!!!  
  
**David:** oh also parts of stan twitter are insisting im secretly dating mutt so  
  
**Patrick:** Mutt? Really?  
  
**David:** one person is arguing that were actually secretly married and have been for YEARS and wrote a long blog post detailing all the secret messages we've been sending in our instagram captions  
  
**Patrick:** Please send me that link immediately.  
  
**David:** no way am i going anywhere near that again, google it yourself  
  
**David:** though there are some people that think i spent the week in toronto fucking jake  
  
**David:** but im exclusively dating this other guy so i guess ill have to let jake down easy, right?  
  


Patrick laughs, but immediately switches over to Google to find the post about David and Mutt and gets sucked into the tale of their years-long whirlwind romance.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 3:02 PM  
**David:** that was supposed to be a joke  
  


He reads back up and - oh, _fuck._

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** Shit, sorry! I got distracted reading the article.  
  
**Patrick:** You are definitely exclusively dating someone that isn't Jake or Mutt or Ted or whatever other person the internet thinks you're dating that isn't me.  
  
**David:** i mean i know that, i dont know who youre trying to convince here  
  
**David:** but hey what about you, are you seeing anyone  
  
**Patrick:** Oh, I am very much exclusively dating this guy that I'm super fucking into.  
  
**David:** oh okay too bad  
  
**David:** hes a lucky guy though  
  
**Patrick:** Nah, I'm the lucky one.  
  
**David:** you cant just say shit like that when im not there to kiss that dumb smug look off your face  
  
**Patrick:** Jokes on you, when you kiss me, it just makes me more smug.  
  
**David:** thats exactly the kind of shit im talking about  
  


Patrick smiles (yeah, _smugly_ ) and goes back to the article, which is now detailing when the wedding took place (apparently in the spring of 2013, David was in Toronto, and he and Mutt both wore suits on the same day, photographed only three blocks from each other), when Ted leans over. "Hey, bud, you're smiling awfully hard at your phone there."

His head snaps up. "Oh, yeah, um. Just... reading some conspiracy theory about how Mutt is secretly married to David Rose," he says with a laugh.

Ted grabs for his phone but Patrick dodges it. Ted, the unsuspecting and perfect human he is, didn't bat an eye at Patrick's caginess. "You _gotta_ send it to me."

Patrick does, and five minutes later, he and Ted are both absorbed in the slideshow of pictures.

"Where did you even find this?"

"Oh, um. David sent it to me."

Ted's eyebrow quirked up. "Oh, I didn't realize you guys were friends. Is that why he's been to so many games?"

He nods. "Yeah, I uh, I met him when we were in New York. I was... shopping for some art, and we, uh, we got along really well."

Ted claps him on the shoulder. "Well that's great, man! I know you've been in a funk since you and Rachel broke up, you could use some friends outside of the team."

The thing is, Ted is _right._ Patrick loves his teammates, they're some of his best friends. But he _has_ been missing the camaraderie of his old friends, which Rachel seems to have laid claim to in their breakup. Which is fair. No one knows why Patrick suddenly bolted, cutting off all contact. Of course they'd take her side. Her fiancé fucking _ghosted_ her after unceremoniously dumping her less than a month after finally proposing.

But he still has the team. He has Ted and Mutt and Ray and hell, even Jake, whose entire personality seems to be horny detached aloofness. But they have his back. Patrick has no doubts that if he stood up, right now, in this private gate at the airport and told them all that he's gay and dating a guy he's crazy about, that none of them would bat an eye.

And maybe one day, Ray lets it slip at a post-game press conference, or Emir makes a joke in front of a fan, or Ted comments on his next Instagram post that David is a lucky guy, or Mutt posts a Twitter thread on LQBTQ+ history and name-drops him, or, God forbid, Jake comments on _David's_ Instagram with an innuendo and tags Patrick.

Then the fans would know, and the world would know, and his parents and his old friends and the announcers and...

So he keeps his mouth shut. Even if all Patrick wants to do is tell his friends that _David Rose_ chose _him_.

"We have to send this to the team," Ted is saying as he reads.

"Mmhmm."

Ted glances over. "David keeps texting you," he says, and Patrick turns the screen away, even though he _knows_ he doesn't have message previews turned on. "He must have gotten to the part about their adopted daughter!"

Patrick laughs and slides his thumb across the phone screen, holding it at an angle Ted can't see.

And he is pleasantly surprised.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 3:24 PM  
**David:** IMG_4237.jpg  
  
**David:** IMG_4238.jpg  
  
**David:** IMG_4239.jpg  
  
**David:** what the actual FUCK, brewer??  
  


Patrick laughs again, and stands from his seat, excusing himself from Ted and walking to the bathroom so he can enjoy this victory away from prying eyes.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 3:25 PM  
**Patrick:** You don't like them?  
  
**David:** we both know thats not the problem  
  
**David:** the flowers are lovely, thank you  
  
**David:** but why are there SO MANY of them???  
  
**Patrick:** One for each time I've thought about you since we met.  
  


David just sends back the puking emoji and Patrick smiles widely, opening the photos David sent of his apartment, every flat surface of the main living space _covered_ with flowers. The kitchen counters, the dining table, his coffee table, the TV stand, the console table in the hallway...

God, he hopes David isn't allergic.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 3:26 PM  
**David:** 🤮  
  
**Patrick:** Okay, honestly? I just wanted it to be a lot, I didn't realize it would be that many though.  
  
**David:** IMG4240.jpg  
  
**David:** explain the note, then!  
  


Patrick opens the photo, pleased that the florist delivered the note exactly how he dictated it:

D,

You are never "too much." Maybe these are though?

Thanks for putting up with me for one whole month.

\- P :)

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 3:27 PM  
**David:** also we are not doing monthly anniversaries, thats just tempting fate  
  
**Patrick:** Sure, David.  
  
**David:** im serious patrick, please dont  
  
**Patrick:** Okay. I'm about to get on this plane though and won't be able to talk, I'll call you from the hotel?  
  
**David:** ugh youre so annoying.  
  
**David:** travel safe x  
  


He grins and pulls up Instagram, uploading the video he recorded that morning and then immediately putting his phone on airplane mode.

\---

He doesn't take his phone off airplane mode until they've deplaned, gotten their bags, and piled into the van in St. Louis.

He settles into the back row, next to Mutt, who is already leaning against the opposite window and snoring, and turns his service back on.

The screen lights up with dozens of notifications, just as he expected it would. He smirks, feeling really self-satisfied.

 **thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** liked your video  
**alexis** liked your video  
**alexis** commented on your video: 🙌🏻🎉💖  
**alexis** has sent you a message  
**stevie_budd** started following you  
**stevie_budd** has sent you a message  
**mullensitover** commented on your video: Great job, bud! 👍🏻  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**thedavidrose** has sent you a message  
**carlyraejepsen** commented on your video: This is amazing!!! 💕

 **David Rose**  
5 iMessages  


**@thedavidrose** sent you a direct message

He dives in, opening Instagram first.

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** what. the. actual. fuck.  
  
**thedavidrose:** i hate you so much  
  
**thedavidrose:** i hate this i really do  
  
**thedavidrose:** its honestly horrifying, delete this!!  
  
**thedavidrose:** ugh youre so fucking ANNOYING  
  
**thedavidrose:** how are you so talented i honestly dont understand  
  
**thedavidrose:** who sings CARLY RAE with an accordion!!  
  
**thedavidrose:** how do you look so HOT with a fucking ACCORDION!!!!!!!  
  
**thedavidrose:** i will burn all of your blue shirts if you dont call me the second youre alone  
  
**thedavidrose:** this was unfair and frankly rude  
  
**thedavidrose:** it was also very sweet but i will deny i ever said that  
  
**thedavidrose:** patrick.  
  
**thedavidrose:** i cant believe you posted this and then GHOSTED me  
  


He doesn't respond, but checks his other messages.

**Messages with** alexis  
  
**alexis:** oh my goddddd, patrick hes gonna dieeeeee  
  


**Messages with** stevie_budd  
  
**stevie_budd:** Do you have a death wish? He's gonna kill you.  
  


Patrick grins to himself, feeling pretty fucking smug by the time he checks David's texts.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 8:09 PM  
**David:** you SAY youre on a plane and thats why you couldnt talk earlier but ted is commenting on your video so i KNOW youre fucking with me  
  
**David:** did you go on airplane mode to avoid me  
  
**David:** i see these arent getting delivered so  
  
**David:** i swear to god if you dont call me when you land im gonna dump your ass  
  
**David:** ok thats a lie but honestly youre being kinda rude  
  


He has a feeling David's Twitter DM will be more of the same, but he checks it anyway.

Messages with **@thedavidrose**  
  
sent at 4:07 PM  
**@thedavidrose:** am i gonna have to fucking email you????????  
  


He swipes back to his messages and responds to David.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 8:10 PM  
**Patrick:** Landed! Five minutes out from the hotel. I'll call you after I check in. :)  
  
**David:** oh my god FINALLY  
  
**David:** i mean nooo, too late, dont bother, im mad at you  
  
**Patrick:** Talk to you soon!  
  


Patrick wastes the rest of the drive replying to the comments on his video, shocked that Carly Rae herself saw it. Then he goes to his feed, where a frankly _obscene_ photo of David sits proudly at the top. It's clearly a professional photo, his hair wet and dripping in his face and down his white tee shirt, as he bites his lip, his dark eyes smoldering directly into the lens, his hand tucked inside the waistband of his jeans, a leather jacket hanging off one arm as if he started taking it off _just_ to get his hand down his pants and then couldn't last another second without touching himself.

 **thedavidrose** : is this too much of a #thirsttrap?

The caption is cheeky and yeah, maybe too much, considering. But it doesn't stop Patrick from liking the photo, screen shotting it, and saving it to his password-protected folder just as they pull up to the hotel.

He checks in quickly and races up to his room, brushing off his teammates' invitation to join them at the hotel bar.

The moment he's in the door, he's calling David.

"Are you finally fucking alone?" David huffs in lieu of a greeting.

"Hello to you too, David, how was your day? Did you have a good flight home?"

"No, we're not doing that yet. You're going to tell me to touch myself and I'm gonna do it and then I'm gonna come and then you're gonna come and _then_ we can exchange pleasantries and bitch about the current state of air travel, but if you don't-"

"David?"

"Mm?"

"Touch yourself."

"God, _finally_." He listens to the sound of David's hand moving over himself, to his sighs and moans and the things he's begging Patrick to do to himself ("Patrick, _please_ , touch yourself, I wanna hear you too...") and soon, they're both coming, David in his penthouse in New York, Patrick in a lonely Westin hotel room nearly a thousand miles away in St. Louis.

They're catching their breath when David says it. "I did like the song, Patrick."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, mmhmm. It... it was lovely."

Patrick shrugs. "It wasn't too much?"

David laughs. "No, no, it was... it was perfect."

"Hey, David?"

"Hmm?"

"You know it was for you, right?"

He hears him laugh lightly. "Yeah, your note gave it away."

"But you know it wasn't like, _about_ you, right? It was... it came from _me_ , _for_ you _?_ "

"Patrick?"

"Yeah?"

There's silence on the other end, but Patrick can hear David breathing and the faint sounds of New York traffic and he knows he hasn't hung up.

"David?"

He hears David _tsk_ and sigh on the other end, like he's annoyed with himself. "Will you just... will you sing it to me?"

Patrick feels the prickle of emotion in the back of his throat but swallows it down, making a joke to buy himself time. "I don't have my accordion here, but..." He takes a breath to steady himself before he starts singing softly, skipping straight to his favorite line. " _Am I too close? You fold into me like a heart with a beat, I know now, I know now. And did you know that I'm wild for your skin and the dance that we're in so close now..._ " He moves into the chorus, keeping it light, before he dips into a lower register, singing, " _I'll do anything to get to the rush... cuz if I want you, then I want you too much,_ " with the same careful, slight rewrite he posted to Instagram, ironically not wanting to say too much, too soon. _"Is this too, is this too, is this too much?_ "

He finishes the song and David is silent for long enough that he wonders if he fell asleep.

"Thank you, Patrick."

"Anytime, David."

"I wish I could see you."

He mentioned last week that he needed to spend some time in New York packing up the gallery and sending pieces off to his patrons and tracking down business managers for payments. Patrick wishes he were with him, or that David could be here, but he's afraid if he mentions it, David will ignore his own work and hop on the next flight out. "I know, but soon enough, right? Next Friday?"

"Next Friday," David agrees, and Patrick can hear the smile in his voice.

"Can't wait," he tells him.

"Me neither."

They eventually hang up so Patrick can shower the flight - and the come - off of himself.

When he finally slips between the sheets in an unfamiliar and too empty bed, he notices a new Instagram notification and opens the app.

 **thedavidrose** commented on your video: 🤮

Just as he taps the heart to like the comment, his phone dings.

**iMessage:** Rachel  
  
**Today** 8:34 PM  
**Rachel:** arkgarkegerkgljerogijrgi reglnernevd  
  
**Today** 10:04 PM  
**Rachel:** Sorry! My phone was unlocked in my purse, but I was thinking about texting you anyway. How are you?  
  


He reads it and wonders how the fuck he missed the first message, until he glances at the time stamp and realizes it came through while he was on the phone with David.

The memory makes him smile, and he just locks his phone and turns out the bedside light, wishing David were next to him as he falls asleep, and already deeply missing his presence.

\---

"Hi, sorry, can you hold on one second?" David answers the next evening, blurting it out in one breath before Patrick hears him set the phone down and direct his gallery assistant to pack up one of the canvases. Patrick listens as there is shuffling and footsteps on the other end of the line until finally, mercifully, a door clicks shut and the shuffling stops. "Sorry, hi."

"Hi. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just trying to get this place packed up for pickups. How are you? How was the game?"

"You didn't watch?" He teases.

He hears David sigh. "I'm sorry, I was so busy here and-"

"David. I'm joking. It's fine that you don't watch every game. It's probably healthier, honestly."

David is quiet for a moment. "I mean, I get notifications from the app, so I know you scored a-" David goes silent. "Twyla? ...Patrick, can you hang on for a second?"

Patrick listens as there's more shuffling.

"Shit, I have to go, I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go. We can talk later."

"Thank you, I'm sorry. I'll call you on my way home tonight, okay?"

"Okay, it's a-" the line goes dead. "Date."

He sighs and goes into the bathroom to draw himself a bath, adding a few hefty handfuls of Epsom salts before sinking beneath the surface.

He soaks and he dries off and he brushes his teeth and changes into his pajamas and eventually just crawls between the sheets with a book to wait for David's call.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:58 PM  
**David:** sorry sorry one of the stands got knocked over  
  
**David:** thank god it wasnt the blown glass piece i was going to lose it  
  
**David:** but then twyla needed help with one of the canvases and it took forever to package  
  
**David:** are you still awake? im heading home in five and can call you then  
  
**Today** 11:17 PM  
**David:** ugh just now leaving. assuming youre in bed?  
  
**Today** 11:33 PM  
**David:** im home now but i think youve passed out  
  
**David:** we can talk tomorrow  
  
**David:** sleep well x  
  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:32 AM  
**Patrick:** Shit, I'm sorry, I fell asleep. It was a hard game and I just crashed. I'm sorry.  
  
**Today** 10:26 AM  
**David:** its fine  
  
**David:** call me tonight?  
  
**Patrick:** Of course. Have a good day, babe! :)  
  
**David:** 🙄  
  


\---

Patrick wakes up the next morning and immediately checks his phone.

VOICEMAIL 1:32 AM  
**David Rose** (1)

"Fuck! Patrick, I'm so sorry I missed your call, I was answering emails on my phone and it died and I somehow didn't have a charger in my office and Twyla uses a goddamn _Android_ and the Duane Reade on the corner didn't have any chargers in stock and I... I'm so sorry, I know we haven't talked for a few days." He hears David take a shuddering, anxious breath. "I'm so sorry. I, um. I hope you had a good night."

The line goes dead.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:31 AM  
**Patrick:** We keep missing each other. I have some press today and then the game this afternoon but can we please talk tonight?  


He doesn't get to check his phone until the 7th inning stretch, running to his locker just to see if David responded.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:01 AM  
**David:** yes please  
  
**Today** 3:15 PM  
**David:** FUCK i forgot i have a dinner meeting with a buyer later  
  
**Today** 6:28 PM  
**Patrick:** No worries, we'll talk tomorrow?  
  
**David:** this sucks  
  
**David:** im gonna cancel  
  
**Patrick:** Don't you dare. Go to your meeting. We can talk tomorrow.  
  
**David:** fine. i miss you.  
  
**Patrick:** I miss you too, babe.  
  
**David:** omg please enough 🙄  
  
**Patrick:** Never. Later, babe. :)  
  


\---

They don't talk tomorrow. David gets swamped with meetings and helping Twyla sort out the books, ignoring Patrick's offer (via text, because they keep missing each other, despite Patrick's game getting rained out) to help.

They don't talk the day after, either, since Patrick plays a double header and David has an event for some fashion designer Patrick has never heard of but who David is incredibly excited to have scored an invite to.

\---

He finishes his workout and grabs his phone from his locker, racing to a secluded corner and immediately tapping on David's contact.

" _Hi, you've reached David Rose of Rose Gallery. Please leave your name and number and I will return your call as soon as possible_."

 _Fuck_!

"Hey, David, it's me. Just... wanted to say hi. Call me when you're free?" He deliberates for a moment over saying that he misses him, not wanting to guilt him, before tacking on, "Talk to you later. Bye."

He hangs up and returns to the locker room to get ready for the game.

As he slides into his car that night, he pulls out his phone to see two new voicemails from David and presses play immediately, pathetically excited to just hear his voice.

"Hi, David, it's Patrick! I'm theoretically on my lunch... break... right... shit, sorry, um. I forgot what I was saying... Anyway, I'm free-ish for the next hour or so if you're available."

The message ends, and he plays the next.

"Patrick, oh my god, I think I called you David? Sorry, sorry, I'm just dealing with this _fucking impossible invoice_ ," he yells, as if it will fix things. "Anyway, I have a meeting tonight but text me when you're free and maybe we can talk? Okay, ciao!"

He laughs, but shoots off a text to David that he's heading back to the hotel.

He doesn't get a text back.

It's fine, David is busy. Patrick of all people gets that. Doesn't mean he doesn't miss him.

\---

By day six, Patrick is over it.

He misses David. He just wants to fucking _talk_ to his... the guy he's... No. You know what? Fuck it. He wants to talk to his boyfriend. He knows David is his boyfriend, even if David hasn't explicitly told him so yet.

Maybe if he could _fucking talk to him_ , they could talk about that. Not that Patrick would ever broach such a topic, but still. He's cranky about _not being able to talk to his boyfriend_.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:32 AM  
**Patrick:** I'm putting my foot down. Unless you have a meeting, we are having a call at exactly 8:00 PM EST tonight. I'll send a fucking Google Calendar invite if I have to.  
  
**Today** 10:07 AM  
**David:** why is this so hot  
  
**David:** but okay i will be there  
  


Patrick makes it through his game on sheer spite, irritated with the world and just wanting to talk to David. They win by a landslide, Patrick scoring two runs and batting in two more.

"Come on, man," Emir says, jostling his shoulder as they enter the hotel. "Let us get you a beer."

"I told you, I can't. I have to-"

"Call your mom, we know." Emir lets him go. "Raincheck?"

"Sure," Patrick says, beelining for his room and checking his watch. 7:25 PM. Okay, okay. He's got time.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 7:25 PM  
**Patrick:** Are we still on for 8?  
  
**David:** IMG_4321.jpg  
  
**David:** i await your call  
  
**Patrick:** You look amazing.  
  
**Patrick:** But it's not that kind of call. Put some pants on.  
  
**David:** youre so bossy  
  
**David:** but fine  
  
**David:** but only because your bossiness is hot  
  
**David:** even when you tell me to put pants on  
  
**David:** which is really fucked up patrick  
  


He grins at his phone before dialing down to the front desk for room service, opening Seamless on his cell phone in his other hand. Once dinner is sorted, he quickly hops in the shower and is miraculously pulling on a blue button down by 7:55.

Patrick watches the time change on his phone, but refuses to call David early. The plan was for 8, he can wait five minutes.

Finally, _finally_ , the clock switches from 7:59 to 8:00 and he hits David's contact.

"Hi."

"Hi."

He just grins. _God, he's missed his voice._

"Me too," David replies.

He didn't realize he'd said it out loud.

"Patrick, I'm so sorry, I've been so busy with the-"

"Don't apologize."

"But I-"

"David. I love your work ethic. Don't apologize for it."

"Fine. I'm not at all sorry that I've been basically ignoring you all week and forgot to charge my phone the other night."

"Good."

David laughs lightly. Patrick swoons a little. He really loves his laugh.

"Oh my _fucking_ god. Patrick, there's someone at the door, give me two seconds to murder them, I will be right back." He listens as David steps to the door and pulls it open, followed by some shuffling as David figures out where to put his phone while he balances what Patrick can only assume, and hopes, based on the order total, is a veritable Jenga tower of takeout boxes. "Patrick Brewer what the _fuck_ did you do!" He hears David bark through what sounds like several layers of clothing.

He laughs and switches over to Facetime, waiting for David to answer.

"Patrick!"

"Hi. How are you?"

"You think you're so funny."

Patrick grins. "I see you got my present?" He asks, taking joy in the truly absurd amount of pizza and takeout behind David.

"Oh, you mean the _mountain_ of takeout containers? I am planning on posting this on Twitter, where you will be swiftly cancelled for such unethical consumption of single-use plastics and nonrecyclable styrofoam."

"I dunno, David. It kinda looks like _you're_ the one unethically consuming all that packaging. And from what I can see, a _whole lot_ of it."

"Mm, mmhmm. Luckily, I will be able to bring this to the gallery tomorrow and send it home with Twyla to feed her family of 75."

Patrick laughs, but they're interrupted by a knock at his door. "Oh, give me one second, David, someone's at my door," he says, dropping the phone onto the bed and moving to usher in the table.

"Oh, for _fuck's sake_ ," he hears David curse behind him.

Once everything is in place and the door clicks behind a very well-compensated hotel employee, he picks his phone back up, holding it high enough that David can see the set up. "I thought we could have a date tonight. Dinner and a movie. Didn't know what you wanted, so you have just about one of everything there. But pick something soon, _Maid in Manhattan_ is on at 9."

He watches David's eyes soften. "Patrick..."

"Dig in. Don't want those mozzarella sticks to get cold."

He places the phone on the table in front of him as David does the same, and they eat and they chat about their weeks (or, more accurately, David complains about work and dealing with "entitled people's schedules" while Patrick nods, thinking about how much he loves David's complete lack of self-awareness and watches him on the grainy screen, wishing he were with him in person instead). After, Patrick moves to the hotel bed and David settles onto his couch and they watch the movie together over Facetime (or, more accurately, David provides a running commentary and Patrick watches him and listens intently). It's sweet, and it's the most Patrick can hope for right now.

And once the credits roll and David gives him _that look_ before he unzips his fly and gives Patrick a show, he forgets that there are miles and miles between them and just focuses on David and wonders how the universe thought he was worthy of this and counts down the hours until he can touch him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -Too Much by Carly Rae Jepsen (Patrick uploads it just before he gets on the plane)
> 
> All music from this fic is in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	5. to kiss in cars and downtown bars (david)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They figure things out, and Patrick gets some much-needed support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated with music from this chapter!
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "cardigan" by taylor swift  
>   
>   
> 

This is _bullshit_.

The gallery was supposed to be cleared out yesterday. That was the _deal_ he made with Mr. Gordon when he purchased every single sculpture in the exhibit and _insisted_ on using his own handlers to move them.

So when Mr. Gordon didn't show at their scheduled, pre-discussed, goddamn _confirmed fucking time_ yesterday, and didn't return David's calls, even though he _knows_ he said "I am traveling to San Francisco tomorrow and cannot hold these pieces any longer," in all five messages he left, yeah, maybe he lost it.

"I just really fucking hate art people, Patrick!" He yelled into the phone last night.

"You are an art people, though?"

"No! No, I am a _tastemaker_ and a _curator_ , I am not an artist nor am I a collector, the two _worst_ kinds of people!"

"No, no, you're right," Patrick told him, his voice doing that smug, lilting thing that David now knows means that he's about to tease him. "You're actually just a work of art."

He rolled his eyes hard, though he knew his ears pinked up a bit and was glad they weren't Facetiming. "No, Patrick. No."

He laughed. "What can I do to help?"

"Send a hitman for Mr. Gordon?"

"Sorry, David, no can do, my go-to guy just retired and I haven't found a good replacement hitman yet."

"You're of no use to me, then."

"Really, David? None at all?" Patrick's voice had purred in his ear. "Not... _any_ part of me?"

And yeah, he was done complaining about work for the night.

So here he is, spending the day in his office with his bags packed, just _praying_ Mr. Gordon shows up and staring at the clock.

He already pushed his flight to the last departure of the day, leaving at 5 o'clock. He'd miss the game and would barely be in San Francisco in time to crawl into bed with Patrick and fall asleep, but it was better than nothing.

And he's still sitting in the chair at 5:10.

He calls Mr. Gordon and leaves another message, before calling his movers and begging for a favor. Then he calls Patrick, the call going straight to voicemail.

"Hi, it's me. Um. He didn't show. And the lease on the space ends tomorrow, so I have to get these pieces out. I'm so sorry, I won't be able to make it tonight. Or tomorrow. The, um. My guys aren't available to move the pieces to storage until tomorrow night and the last flight leaves at 4, and I'm just..." He breathes in, keeping the sob threatening to burst out of his throat in check. "I'm sorry, Patrick. I'm trying so hard to get there, I swear." He clears his throat. "I'll see you as soon as I can," he says, and hangs up.

He texts the airline assistant to put him to the first flight out the day after tomorrow. It departs LaGuardia at 5:17 AM.

He's going to take a transcontinental flight out of fucking _LaGuardia_ at 5 in the morning. For Patrick.

Jesus, what has this guy done to him?

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 6:19 PM  
**Patrick:** Sorry, I was training. Don't worry about the flight, we'll figure it out, okay? No need to apologize to me. I'd wait forever for you. :)  
  
**David:** are you being disgusting so i stop being sad?  
  
**Patrick:** Maybe. Is it working?  
  
**David:** yes.  
  
**Patrick:** :)  
  


  


\---

When David _finally_ gets off the plane in San Francisco two days later, he has a voicemail from Mr. Gordon explaining that he's on his sailboat in the Bahamas and if David can just store the pieces for him until next month, he will pay for the storage fees and moving costs.

If he'd just fucking _called him back_ a week ago when David first started scheduling pickups, David could've been here with Patrick when he was supposed to be.

He makes a mental note to blacklist Mr. Gordon from future openings. He feels good about the decision.

"David!" He turns, hoping Patrick decided to surprise him here, but it's Ted.

Fuck.

"Hi, um, it’s Ted, right?”

Ted nods and extends a hand for David to shake. “Yeah, good to finally meet you, man! Patrick talks about you a lot.”

And just what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? Still, he feels himself fighting down a smile. “Mm. What are you doing here?"

"My mom is flying in for the game. What are you doing in San Francisco?"

He waves noncommittally. "I'm meeting with an artist for my next show, she does venue-specific works so I wanted to see some pieces."

Ted nods. "Got it."

"Yeah, so I should... probably go..."

"Hey, real quick, is Patrick..." He shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What?" David asks, his heart racing.

"Nothing, I just... I saw him leave with your family, that night in Toronto, and I was just wondering if..." David just stares at him. This is not good. Oh _fuck_. _Oh god, oh fuck_. "IsPatrickdatingAlexis?"

It blurts out as one word and David is _floored_. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I just, I met her last year at the MTV Awards and I know she doesn't remember me and that's fine, but _wow_ , she's like, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but then Patrick seems so close to you and she commented all those emojis on his post and I-"

"They're not dating." Denying it seems stupid. It's a good cover for his "close friendship" with Patrick, but the idea of the world thinking he's Patrick's buddy because he's fucking his sister is too much for him.

"Okay. Cool. Cool. That's good _news_ ," he says, tilting his head toward the Hudson News bookseller they're standing in front of.

"Mm! Yes."

Ted's phone chimes and he glances down and David is saved by the grace whatever airline Ted's mother flew. "Oh! My mom's plane landed, gotta _jet_!" And he walks away.

"What the fuck," David whispers to himself.

\---

In the car, he checks Twitter. Apparently, Ted came to pick him up from the airport, which is all the proof the #TEDVID (which he supposes is better than #DED at least?) fans need to prove that they're together.

Though no one comments on the Blue Jays mug tucked into the side of his bag.

He sends some tweets to Patrick, who is _deeply_ amused by it.

He seems less amused when David finally arrives and pushes him against the door, dropping to his knees and wrapping those strong thighs around his shoulders as he holds him up and licks him open until he comes around his tongue, right there against the door frame.

In David's defense, he's had two extra days to think about the hottest way to greet him.

\---

They spend two days together in the hotel in San Francisco, drinking whatever wine the bar downstairs has on hand to send up and room service burgers and waffles and coffee and tea. Patrick apologizes that the tub isn't jetted, but David is up for the challenge and still manages to blow him in the standard size bathtub.

They kiss and hold each other and fuck and laugh harder than David can ever remember and David watches the game from between their rumpled sheets, wearing nothing but Patrick's worn-in Blue Jays tee shirt and his favorite Tom Ford briefs (and maybe he sends a "congratulations, now hurry back" photo to Patrick of his legs stretched out on the bed, Patrick's grinning face on the TV in the background as he jogs in at the end of the 9th inning) and it feels _right_.

And then David is on a plane back to New York to meet with an artist (for real this time) and Patrick heads back to Toronto and he realizes how much this sucks.

\---

It sucks even more when three days later, Patrick's face is splashed all over every gossip site, his name trending on Twitter.

It is a very flattering photo, if David says so himself. It's an even better picture of Alexis.

Their smiles as they hold on to each other and stumble down the street with Stevie in tow are convincingly lovely, Patrick's head thrown back, grin wide and open with what David knows is his favorite of Patrick's laughs, that guffawing that gives way to a giggle when he catches his breath. His eyes are squeezed shut, his right hand holding his middle, Alexis’ arm looped through his elbow, his other hand gripping hers where it rests on his forearm. She's grinning widely at him, Stevie next to her with a self-satisfied smirk on her face, but with just enough space that she is easily cropped out - and most of the outlets running the photo do.

It's fucked up that David's first thought is "Poor Ted."

He sends his favorite tweets to Patrick.

His phone stays dark, and it makes his stomach turn, so he calls Stevie.

"What?"

"I need you to talk me down."

"About what?"

"Have you not been online?"

"You know I don't like hearing other people's opinions."

He smiles. This is why he calls Stevie during these times. "The internet is convinced Patrick and Alexis are dating."

"...Shit."

"Yeah."

"You know he's like, stupid crazy about you, right?"

David shrugs. He knows Stevie can't see it, but he also knows Stevie knows he did it.

"He is. He wouldn't shut the fuck up about you last night. It was gross. And _annoying_."

He stays silent, picking at lint on his bedspread.

She pauses for a moment. "They get along well. She likes him."

Alexis has _never_ liked anyone he's dated. She hated his ex-girlfriend, Lysa, the performance artist who lived nomadically in Lisbon. And she _definitely_ hated Sebastien, but everyone did. She didn't even like Anderson Cooper, even before he broke up with him while they were parasailing in the Seychelles.

"We all do," Stevie continues. "We all know this is important to you, David."

"It's not-"

"Shut the fuck up, yes it is."

"I barely know him."

"If you don't stop bullshitting me, I'm going to hang up the phone."

He grates his teeth. "Okay, fine! He's really fucking important to me and I'm crazy about him, I like him _so fucking much_ and somehow, he seems to like me too and he wants to be with me for _god_ knows what reason and I don't want to fuck it up and the paparazzi digging into his life is going to _fuck it up_ , Stevie!"

"David, breathe." He does, forcing air back into his lungs, his chest burning with the effort. In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. "Good. Now. Patrick is a big boy. He's making his own choices. If he chooses you, even though he might get outed? That's his choice to make."

"Yeah, but-"

"No. David, he's choosing you. Let him."

He nods, tears stinging his eyes. "Thank you, Stevie."

"Whatever. Just don't call me this early again," she says, hanging up on him.

He laughs. He loves her so much.

Patrick finally calls him back two hours later, apologizing profusely for being at the gym and they laugh about the fan theories.

"I just don't understand how I'm not even an _option_ in their minds! I posted that picture right after you posted that video, and you're hanging out with my sister, and _I'm_ the one that's been to half your games!"

Patrick laughs. "They all think I'm straight. Me being gay hasn't even occurred to them."

David clears his throat. "You, um. You're gay?"

"...What? Yes, David, of course I am!"

"Okay, well I'm not! And we've never talked about this, and you're so-"

"Please don't say whatever it is you're going to say."

David pulls his lips in. "I'm sorry, you're right. That doesn't mean anything. And I'm sorry for making an assumption. I know how annoying it is."

"You're forgiven, I guess."

He smiles. "Although..."

"Mm?"

"You know, no one would look at the two of us and think _I'm_ the one who likes fucking women."

Patrick barks a surprised laugh. David wishes he could see him. His eyes are probably doing that adorable crinkly thing they do when he laughs. "I guess you're right. Look at us, breaking stereotypes."

"It is bummer though. I wish there was a secret conspiracy about us instead of my secret marriage to Mutt, or Ted, or Jake, or whoever the internet chooses that day."

"At least they're in your league, they're all much prettier than me."

"Okay, well, _that's_ not true."

"Hey, David?"

"Mm?"

"Does this mean you were jealous of your sister?"

"If you tell her, I swear I will never speak to you again."

"Noted," Patrick laughs. He's silent for a beat, before he breathes out a soft, "I miss you."

"I miss you too."

\---

After Toronto, Patrick goes to Cincinnati, then Pittsburgh, then back to Toronto, then he's _finally_ close to the city again.

And they talk every day and they send funny videos in multiple Instagram threads depending on if they thinks Alexis and/or Stevie would find it funny, and they DM tweets to each other captioned "you" and they Facetime a lot, sometimes without clothes on, sometimes just to enjoy a long distance breakfast together, and at one point, David arrives home after a meeting to find a giant teddy bear outside his door, holding a plush heart with "2 Months!" on it in fucking Comic Sans, and he _misses him_ so much and he's so excited to see him, even if the drive _does_ take three hours with traffic.

"Okay, so like, _why_ are you making me come with you again?"

He's excited to see him, he reminds himself, even though Patrick suggested they take Ted and Alexis out for a definitely-not-a-set-up dinner after the game, so she's tagging along.

David shrugs. "I wanted to introduce you to someone."

"In Philly."

"Yes," he hisses.

"Like, who though, David?"

He shrugs.

"Ugh! If you're not going to tell me you should've just left me at home!"

"He's hot. I promise."

She crinkles her nose. "No offense, David, but Patrick and his cute little tush notwithstanding, your taste has been less than stellar."

He cringes, his upper lip curling in disgust. "Do not talk about Patrick's ass."

Her jaw drops. "You _like_ him!"

"Of course I like him, we're driving to _Philadelphia_ to see him," he says, rolling his eyes.

"No, like, you _really_ like him. Like. A _lot_ , David."

He shrugs and waves her off noncommittally.

She reaches forward to boop his nose. "This is a super cute look for you, David."

"Stop it!" He hisses, swatting her hand away. "And when did you start saying 'notwithstanding?'"

She shrugs. "I use it a lot in my papers."

"'Papers?' What 'papers?'"

"My research papers," she says, like it's obvious. He just gapes at her. "Ugh, David! Like, my term papers!" He raises an eyebrow. "At Columbia? Where I study Public Relations?"

"At Columbia?"

"Yes, I've told you this like ten times, David!"

"No you haven't!"

"Yes, David, that's why we put _A Little Bit Alexis_ on hiatus last fall!"

He glances over, confused. "You put the show on hiatus?"

Alexis rolls her eyes and grunts. "Oh my god, David, you were, like, so wrapped up in your little _art project_ -"

"My _gallery_?!"

"-and then with your little button-face that you haven't paid any attention to anything else!"

He doesn't have a response. Well, he does, but it's not nice and she has a point, so he decides to keep his mouth shut.

"Have you really not noticed that you haven't come to LA for like, six months to film?"

He shakes his head. "No, I um. I've been busy."

She purses her lips and shimmies her shoulders at him. "I bet you have, David," she teases, poking his arm to emphasize each word.

"Stop!" He hisses, and turns his attention back to the road. They're silent for a minute before he asks, "Columbia though?"

"I emailed you guys a survey link for my final project last semester!"

"You _emailed_? What is this, 1996?"

"Ugh, David!"

He lets her rant. At least she's no longer talking about his relationship with Patrick.

\---

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 2:14 PM  
**David:** were here!  
  
**David:** break a leg!  
  
**Patrick:** Thanks! Can't wait for dinner later x  
  


  


\---

"Alexis, _what the actual fuck!_ " he hisses, when she comes back from a bathroom break during the 3rd inning wearing a newly-purchased jersey with the number 12 on the back and "BREWER" across her shoulders.

"I wanted to support your _friend_ , David!" She hisses back in a whisper, putting an obnoxious amount of emphasis on the word "friend."

He glares at her.

He also kind of wants to cry. He _wishes_ he could wear Patrick's fugly jersey.

His sister can. Because she is a beautiful, famous _woman_ and her wearing Patrick's jersey wouldn't out him. It would be hot gossip for a minute, but if Patrick were dating Alexis, it would only elevate his public image.

But if David did... it would devastate him. It would out him before he's ready and Patrick would never forgive him - not that he would do it. It's fine.

He wonders when he matured to this point. A few years ago, he would've felt like a dirty little secret and given his- the guy he's dating an ultimatum. But now? Now he's actually _happy_ to help Patrick through this, to show him that he's supported and cared for while he figures it out.

It's still _deeply_ unfair.

( _Your reputation doesn't help_ , a snide part of his brain tells him. He would be a horrible choice for a first public, gay attachment. He's wild and aloof and rebellious and slutty and rude, according to most public opinion. Patrick is a wholesome, hometown hero. _You would ruin him_. He shuts it down, refusing to listen to that voice anymore. He's changed. It's not his fault the tabloids can't see that. But _Patrick_ can see that. Patrick _wants_ that. He _chose_ that. David has to trust Patrick's judgement, he's the smartest person he's ever met.)

Still, when Patrick gracefully and effortlessly catches what would have been a two-run hit in the 9th, bringing the game to a close and clinching another win for the Jays, David is on his feet, cheering loudly before he can stop himself.

\---

They're in the car, waiting outside the locker room after the game, Alexis still wearing that _fucking_ jersey over her dress and tapping out Instagram comments on her phone while David drums his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously.

But when Patrick walks out with Ted, and Alexis perks up.

"He's _cute_ , David!"

"I told you!"

"Okay, but like, like I said, current _beau_ aside, your taste has generally trended toward unwashed pretentious jackasses, so you can't blame me for being surprised, David!" She says as she anxiously flips down the visor and fluffs her hair in the mirror with a grunted "ugh!" before pulling Patrick's jersey off her shoulders and hopping out, pushing Patrick toward the passenger seat so she can climb in next to Ted.

Okay, then.

"Hi," he whispers.

"Hi," Patrick responds, his eyes starry and wide and _fuck_ , why did they plan it like this? He hasn't seen him in _three weeks_ and all he wants to do is lean forward to kiss him, but Ted is here and there are some lingering fans outside and he just pulls away from the curb, unsatisfied and annoyed.

Alexis is prattling on about something that David can't focus on, not with Patrick _right there_ , and he notices Patrick glance over his shoulder with a smirk before reaching out to pry David's right hand off the wheel, holding it gently over the center console.

"Patrick!" He hisses.

"What? He's so focused on Alexis that I promise, he wouldn't notice if this car was hit by a truck right now."

"Okay, let's not put _that_ out into the universe, knowing my luck."

"Hey." He squeezes David's hand, forcing him to glance over. "I missed you."

David feels the corners of his lips quirk up before he can stop them. "Me too."

They pull up to the restaurant and David hands his key to the valet. They're seated in a private booth, tucked in a dark corner of the restaurant and David is very grateful he's able to throw his name around while making reservations.

They make small talk about the game, Alexis fawning over Ted's 2-base hit and David is momentarily shocked she'd been paying attention at all until he remembers that recalling information is a learned life skill for Alexis that has proven useful when extracting herself from whatever drug lord or art thief kidnapped her that week.

David watches them closely, clocking the way Alexis flips her hair over her shoulder and gently rests her fingertips on Ted's forearm as he talks and and he notices how different it is than the way she talks with Patrick. There's intent behind it.

It makes him a little giddy, thinking that maybe Alexis can find the same kind of contentment that he found with Patrick.

...Whose eyes David can _feel_ boring into his face as he watches Ted fawn over his sister. He refuses to look, though, because he knows _exactly_ what expression Patrick is wearing and he knows that if he looks, he's going to press Patrick down into this booth and refuse to let up until they're arrested for public indecency.

He knows Patrick is a take-charge guy, but still, when David picks up his menu to choose a bottle of wine for the table and Patrick slips his hand onto his thigh, pressing gently against his inseam and dragging his hand up until his pinkie brushes against the fly, he jolts. Jesus _Christ_ , how is he supposed to survive this dinner?

Their waiter chooses that moment to drop by their table with waters and to a rehearsed speech about the specials and David curses the tablecloth that obscures Patrick's hand from view, so he keeps tracing circles over David's inner thigh, making him stumble over his questions about the wine list.

He is _finally_ able to squeak out a request for a bottle of Merlot. The waiter disappears, then Ted excuses himself to the restroom and Patrick is smirking at him and his hand is still skirting _so fucking close_ to his dick and they are so nearly alone that David is about to explode.

"Alexis. Go to the bathroom."

She crinkles her nose at them. "Ew, David, no!"

He steadies his glare at her. "Alexis. I haven't seen Patrick in three weeks and I am going to shove my tongue down his throat and if you wanna watch, that's fine, but I'm giving you a five second warning now." She gapes at him for a second. "Four!"

"Oh my _god_ , ew, fine!" She yelps, sliding out of the booth as David says, "Three."

She's reaching for her bag when David warns her, "Two," and then she's finally, _finally_ gone and they're alone.

So he shoves his tongue down Patrick's throat, kissing him thoroughly enough to make up for every second they've been separated since San Francisco, and Patrick is kissing him back just as deeply, _whimpering_ around David's tongue and gripping the back of his neck, his other hand squeezing his thigh tightly.

"Oh! Sorry, I um-"

They jump apart quickly enough that Patrick nearly falls out of the booth - and if it weren't for the fact that David is so hyperaware of him at all times that his arm shoots out to grab his waist, he would be on the floor.

"I got turned around, the men's room is the _other_ way," Ted says, smiling down at them.

"Uhm," Patrick manages, "This is..."

Ted just cocks his head at them. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I didn't realize you were kissing when I walked up, but I'll leave you to it!"

And with that he walks away.

Patrick slumps against the booth.

"Well, he was bound to find out any way, if he's going to be anywhere near my family."

Patrick laughs and drops a kiss to David's shoulder. David leans down, brushing his lips against Patrick's forehead. "It'll be okay, I promise."

He can feel Patrick grin against his sweater, nodding, and he thinks maybe this wasn't the disaster he thought it was. They stay like that, pressed together, hands gripping each others' tightly, until Alexis returns a few moments later.

"Are you two _finished_ now?"

Ted slides back into the booth before he can answer. "Hey, guys, I really am sorry for interrupting, I should've assumed you'd want a second alone, I know you haven't seen each other since San Francisco, and-"

"Wait, _what?"_

"I mean, you two are together, right? Patrick is always smiling at his phone and showing me the memes you send him, and you've been to so many games..."

They both just gape at him.

"And I saw those pictures of you with Patrick's mug after you were in Toronto, so it was obvious you were staying with him. I mean, for a while, I just thought you two were really good friends," Ted has the decency to look sheepish. "But, uh, then I saw you leave his room in San Francisco and it finally clicked."

David's eyes slide over to Alexis, who just looks impressed - and a little smitten. He knows the feeling. These brilliant jocks are going to ruin his family's reputation as stone-cold ice queens.

Ted holds up his hands. "But don't worry. I don't think anyone else knows."

Patrick clears his throat quietly. "You, um. You didn't tell anyone?"

Ted's big owl eyes could rival Patrick's in that moment. (Except that David loves Patrick's dumb, expressive puppy face and just find's Ted's endearing, so. Not much of a rival, but he's trying, and David has to commend him for the effort). "Of course not. I mean, you were being _pretty_ obvious so I didn't think it was a secret, but I don't gossip."

And there it is - Patrick's dumb, expressive, puppy face is laying it all out there. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. David pulls their joined hands onto his lap, squeezing Patrick's hand firmly.

"Thank you, Ted. We're trying to keep it to ourselves for now, and we appreciate you doing the same," David answers for him.

Ted looks at them for a moment. "Sure thing, guys. Just uh, maybe try not to look so..." he trails off, gesturing at them. David thinks about Patrick's soft, fond eyes, knowing his own do the same thing, and he gets it. "...with each other? It's kind of obvious."

"And super gross," Alexis adds.

"Yeah, can't make any promises on that," Patrick jokes. It makes David's heart skip a beat.

But he's back to himself now, and David has never seen him look so relaxed outside of the bedroom, and he keeps lifting David's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles, and brushing his fingers across David's shoulder throughout their meal, and when their dessert comes he feeds David a bite of his lemon cake and steals some of David's tiramisu while he's distracted, and he kisses the powdered sugar off his lips right there in front of Ted and Alexis, and David _aches_ a bit. He wants this always, to be like this with this sweet, kind, beautiful man that _chose him_ for some unknown reason. But he'll take what he can get, for as long as Patrick is stupid enough to give it to him.

A glass of port and a cup of coffee later, they're finally back at the valet stand, David leaning heavily on Alexis, who has her arm looped through Ted's while Patrick grabs the keys.

"You've had too much to drink, I'll drive," Patrick tells him, lightly (and too briefly) squeezing his waist and sliding into the driver's seat of David's Audi.

David grumbles, but he knows he's right, so he walks around to the passenger side, and as soon as they're on the road and away from any potentially lingering cell phone cameras, he takes Patrick's hand in his and leans his head on his (firm, strong) bicep.

"I'm glad you guys can do that, now that the cat's _Audi_ the bag..."

David groans and Alexis _giggles_.

His sister is _giggling_ at a terrible pun.

She and Ted start chatting about turtles or something in the backseat, and Patrick has put on that terrible sports radio show he loves, so David pulls back and rests his head against the window, dozing until they reach the hotel.

Patrick, apparently (and adorably) reveling in the feeling of being out to a friend, suggests that they all have another drink in his room and orders a bottle of wine at the front desk on their way up.

David immediately pulls his shoes off and crawls onto the bed, leaving Patrick to bring his bags in, which he does without complaint because he's perfect.

Alexis kicks her heels off and starts digging through David's bag for a sweater and he doesn't even stop her because he's feeling warm in this room with her and Patrick and Patrick's friend that doesn't care that Patrick is dating David.

Or rather, he cares, but just because Patrick seems happy. Which is even better.

Patrick excuses himself to the bathroom and emerges in sweatpants and a Blue Jays hoodie that David knows is soft to the touch, and pads over to the bed, sitting at the opposite end and pulling David's feet into his lap to massage his ankles. Patrick, who just played a 5,000-hour ball game and came out to his teammate, is massaging David's ankles just because he knows that's the weird joint where David holds his tension on long drives. Because Patrick is perfect.

He presses his thumbs into David's ankles until their wine arrives, and David misses him sitting beside him already.

But Alexis is lounging on the sofa, bare feet tucked under her, hair staticky from pulling on David's sweater, and she has her entire torso turned toward Ted, who is sitting awkwardly next to her with his feet firmly planted flat on the floor and back ramrod straight, and he's happy for her.

He's happy for himself. And he's happy for Patrick, and he's happy for Ted, and he's just _happy._

Patrick saunters back in with the wine and pours them each a glass as David scrolls through Instagram.

Then suddenly, he's not happy for his sister anymore.

Not when he sees the gorgeous photo she posted of Patrick at bat, clearly taken from their seats behind home plate. His perfect face is captured in profile, his perfect hips bent just enough that his perfect ass is on display, his perfect thighs taut with tension, his perfect shoulders tilted just enough to see "-EWER" stitched across his perfect back.

"I'm sorry, what the _fuck_ is this?" He asks, shoving his phone in her face, as annoyed by the photo as he is by the caption.

 **alexis:** 🧢🐦🔥🌶😘🌭🍿🍻⚾️🎉💖

"What's what?"

"You posted a picture of Patrick, the same night you _wore his jersey_ to a game!"

"So _what,_ David?!"

"After all those pictures of you _cozying_ up to him in Toronto!"

"Okay, and?! Who _cares_ , David!"

"I care!" He says, unconcerned about the volume of his voice. "I care that you wore my boyfriend's jersey to his game now the _entire world_ thinks you're dating him!"

"What did you just say?" Patrick asks softly from somewhere next to him. David glances over and his eyes are big and bright and he is still holding the wine in one hand and a glass in the other and looking at David like he gave him the moon and oh _fuck_ , David is really gone on him.

"I said the entire world thinks you're dating my sister."

Patrick narrows his eyes playfully. "I think it was something about your _boyfriend's_ jersey?"

"I don't... I don't remember saying that..."

"That's what I heard!" Alexis pipes up. Ted nods next to her. David revokes his approval of him, effective immediately. Traitor.

"Hey, if my _boyfriend_ wants to wear my jersey, I can get him a jersey."

"Or not! I don't remember saying it, so you can do whatever you'd like with that jersey!"

Alexis stands, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and holds a hand out for Ted, who immediately takes it. "Come on, Ted, I think we can finish this in my room."

She grabs the bottle of wine from Patrick and two of the empty glasses and breezes out of the room, Ted right behind her, whispering, "So, were they _not_ boyfriends?" as he grabs her bags.

"Mm, Ted, my brother is a complicated and emotionally stunted creature, you're better off not trying to understand him," she says as the door swings shut behind them.

Patrick smirks, pulling out his phone and tapping at the screen. "My _boyfriend_ wants to wear my jersey, so I'm gonna order _my boyfriend_ a jersey."

His boyfriend (because fuck you, yeah, he can say that now, apparently) drops down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around David's waist.

"Okay, but I should really let you know that wearing sports jerseys when you're not actually on the team? Is incorrect."

"We do what we have to do," Patrick says, leaning in to kiss him firmly.

David kisses him back messily. It's hard through his grin.

He keeps grinning when his boyfriend (shut up) pushes his sweater up, and he's still grinning when his boyfriend swallows around him. He's still grinning when his boyfriend's strong thighs bracket his ribs and he comes on his chest and he grins even wider when he and his boyfriend shower lazily together after, and he _definitely_ keeps grinning when he falls asleep in his boyfriend's arms, his back plastered to his boyfriend's chest.

He doesn't remember the last time he smiled so much without trying to force it back.

\---

David wakes up two days later to his boyfriend's hands scraping through his chest hair, his breath hot on his neck, and reaches back to hold Patrick's head in place while he sucks a mark into his skin, his hand trailing lower and pulling a long, lazy orgasm from David.

Overall, it's his absolute favorite way to wake up.

What _isn't_ his favorite way to wake up is remembering that he has to drive back to the city today and he has no idea when he'll see Patrick again.

He's carefully folding his pajamas and placing them back into his suitcase when Patrick's strong arms wrap around his middle. "Hey."

"Hey."

"We're back home in a week," Patrick tells him, softly. It's like he knows that David is a moment away from falling apart, balanced on a knife's edge of insecurity and anxiety.

How can he always read David's mind?

David shakes his head. "I have meetings in New York to look for a space." His voice cracks. He doesn't bother hiding it.

Patrick drops his forehead with a sigh, resting it against the base of his neck and presses a kiss between David's shoulder blades. "We're in Houston after that, then-."

He nods. "I know," he says, cutting him off.

"You could come to Miami? We can get an Airbnb with a pool and I can watch you sunbathe in those little swim trunks you wore in Italy last year."

David laughs, the shake of his shoulders forcing Patrick to pull back. "I can't believe how much Instagram stalking you did."

Patrick shrugs and drops an open-mouthed kiss to David's neck. "I couldn't stop, every picture was better than the last."

"Mm, good to know I get a little _worse_ looking every day."

Patrick says nothing, which makes David weary.

But he's determined to make this work. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Miami."

Patrick smiles against his neck, his arms squeezing David's waist just a little tighter. "It's a date."

\---

"Oh my _god_ , David, your _boyfriend_ posted a new video," Alexis tells him, her eyes wide as she presses her fingertips together and rests them against her chin, her lips tucked into her teeth.

She shimmies her shoulders just a bit, making his entire couch move with her. It's annoying, but he loves having this with her. Her excitement for him is palpable and he's never had this, he's never been able to gush to her about the person he's dating. Not that he's dated anyone that particularly made him _want_ to gush, until now.

 **patrickbrewer:** @carlyraejepsen always says it better than I ever could.

He takes her phone and presses play.

Patrick smiles into the camera and lifts his right hand, bringing his Blue Jays travel mug into frame, a tea tag and string dangling from under the lid, and takes a long sip before setting it back down.

Troll.

He leans out of frame and picks up his accordion with a shit-eating grin.

Oh _god_.

He starts playing.

" _Waking up next to you every morning, how did we get this far? It came without a warning. And in the nighttime, you tell me your whole life, you and me get too real but all I feel is alright,_ " He picks up on the tempo (on his _fucking accordion,_ David hates him so goddamn much) as he moves into the chorus. " _Don't give it up, don't say it hurts, cuz there's nothing like this feeling, baby, now that I found you. I want it all. No, there's nothing like this feeling, baby, now that I found you_."

He hates him, he hates him, he hates him.

He also gets a little misty because how _dare_ he.

He recognizes the San Francisco hotel room, and thinks about Patrick recording this, and hanging on to it until David was ready to hear it, to admit what this relationship really means to him.

David feels another crack form in the barrier he built around his heart. It's dangerously close to shattering, leaving its soft underbelly exposed and vulnerable. He's actually looking forward to it. He's spent so fucking long being careful, keeping himself guarded. He's excited for the day that he no longer has to. It feels close now. After two months of Patrick chipping away at his walls, it feels like all it will take is a gentle breeze to knock them down, and Patrick's smile is a hurricane. He can't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -Now That I Found You by Carly Rae Jepsen (Patrick uploads it after David calls him his boyfriend)
> 
> All are in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	6. playing hide and seek and giving me your weekends (patrick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick surprises David for his birthday — and maybe realizes a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support and kind words about this story. I'm truly blown away by the fact that people are actually reading this, so thank you!  
>   
> As usual, the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated to include songs from this chapter.  
>   
> \--  
>   
> chapter title from "cardigan" by taylor swift  
>   
>   
> 

Patrick doesn't make it to Miami.

Or rather, Patrick doesn't make it _until_ Miami.

The phone calls and Facetimes and texts and the back-and-forth Instagram messages where they just share a steady stream of memes isn't enough.

He misses his boyfriend, goddamnit.

So, he decides to show up on his doorstep. He's gonna make the romantic gesture.

It's not until he's stepping off the plane that he starts to think, _oh, god, what if he doesn't want me here,_ but then he remembers how David sighed against his mouth after he called Patrick his boyfriend, and the way his voice cracked when he told him he wouldn't be able to make it to Toronto this month, and the way he squeezed him a little tighter when they agreed on Miami, and his watery eyes when they kissed goodbye and it bolsters him.

It also helps that he remembers David has done this twice for him already.

He may feel inadequate, but he's not an idiot. He can see that David is as in this as he is. And he's determined to keep this for as long as it keeps that happy, contented look on his boyfriend's face.

So he takes a deep breath, and hits the buzzer outside David's apartment.

And he stands there.

And he stands there.

And he stands there, wondering if David isn't home, until finally, David's sleepy voice crackles through. "Who's'it?" Patrick feels a swell of fondness over it, picturing him rumpled, eyes still mostly shut, hair wild. Suddenly the seconds between now and when he can finally run his fingers through those soft curls seem like _years_.

"It's me."

"Hmm?"

"David!"

"I don't... Who?" He isn't teasing, he sounds genuinely confused and sleep-addled.

He laughs. "It's Patrick."

"What? Patrick? ...But you're in Tampa?"

Patrick just laughs harder. "David! Just let me in the building already, please."

"Oh! Right, sorry, just-" The lock finally buzzes and Patrick races toward the elevator. It's just closing when one of David's neighbors rushes inside the lobby, but he doesn't hold it.

He only feels guilty about it for a second, though.

"What are you doing here!" David screeches, pulling him into his apartment as soon as the elevator dings open.

He _is_ sleep-rumpled and very, _very_ cute. He still has a pillow crease pressed into his cheek, his hair is still a little flat on one side and Patrick can smell his toothpaste and he imagines him wildly rushing to the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair after he buzzed him in. It makes him smile.

"I didn't want to wait until Miami," he replies, stumbling over his bag and his guitar.

David keeps looking over him, as if he doesn't believe he's really here. "How... But you have a game in Tampa tonight."

Patrick smiles at him. "I took a couple games off."

David's expression goes soft and fond. "Patrick..."

He pulls him in, planting a wet kiss on his lips. "I didn't want to go a month without seeing you. And they don't need me to beat Tampa, so it seemed like the perfect chance."

David is shaking his head. "You can't... you have a job to do, Patrick, you can't just-"

"Hey." He takes David's face in both hands. "So do you, but you fly all over the country to see me."

"Yes, well, my schedule is flexible and also I'm filthy rich."

He smiles. God, he loves him.

He blinks.

Patrick _loves_ him. At least a little bit. Patrick is _definitely_ a little bit in love with him.

The thought should hit him like a freight train, but he realizes it has been there, snaking up along his stream of consciousness for a while, just waiting to show its face. He first caught a glimpse of it back in Boston. Maybe even earlier. Maybe at the gallery, when he shook David's hand outside on the sidewalk and looked into his eyes for the first time and saw a part of himself looking back, or when he found him on Raya and felt that inkling of _fate_ , or when he couldn't take his eyes off him at the People's Choice Awards and he felt that itch to just _go_ to him crawling under his skin, or maybe even when he saw that cute boy in the Rose Video Christmas card and felt a spark of recognition.

So no, it doesn't hit him like a freight train. It doesn't even hit him like a punch to the gut. Instead, it simmers, warm in his belly, and spreads slowly outward, radiating golden through his chest and his limbs, to the tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet until he feels like he's going to burst with it.

And it doesn't feel any _different_ , he's just acknowledged it now. Given it a name, and given it power over himself. It overwhelms him in the best way and he wants to chase it, to be pulled under that wave and sink beneath the surface of it and never come up for air again. He wants to drown in loving David Rose.

He lied. He's definitely a _whole fucking lot_ in love with him.

God, he _loves_ him. He can't wait until David is ready to hear it.

He knows he isn't, not yet, so he just responds, "Exactly. You're putting in all the work. It was my turn to show up at _your_ door for once," and kisses him again, just because he wants to, just because he's here and he can. "Besides, I can't take off for your birthday, so I'm determined to celebrate with you this weekend." He pats his shoulders and pushes past him into the apartment, walking backwards toward David's bedroom and pulling his suitcase with him. "Now, I distinctly remember a very specific rant about the best bagels on the continent?"

David grins widely at him, and Patrick is awed that he gets to see this expression. He thinks he might be the only one. It makes him want to cherish it, keep it safe, make sure David is always grinning like that. "Oh my _god_ , Patrick they're perfect," and with that, he grabs his phone and starts tapping away, placing an order for what Patrick can only assume is two of everything (he's done it before, telling him, "What if it arrives and we decide we both want the same thing and there's only one? What _then_ , Patrick? Do you expect me to _share_?" "Oh, no, the _horror_.") while Patrick unpacks his essentials.

They spend the day on David's sofa, eating bagels and alternating between napping and making out until the sun slips below the skyline. They order pizza from the usual greasy dollar slice spot for dinner, the Blue Jays game playing in the background (and Patrick teases David for his MLBTV subscription, of course), as they eat and make out some more, until Patrick finally pulls away, unable to keep himself focused on David when the announcers keep talking about his teammates.

"I'm offended that you were even still able to hear the game," David says, pulling himself to sit up on the couch. "I must be losing my touch."

Patrick pulls him in for one more searing kiss and whispers, "Never, _babe_ ," as he licks into David's mouth, pouring all of the molten heat he feels for him into it.

So he doesn't make out with his boyfriend, but he _does_ get to spend an evening drinking good whiskey on David's comfortable (but stylish) sofa and listening to David's exasperation when the umpires make a bad call and falling just a little more in love with him with each annoyed, “oh what the fuck, he clearly made it!”

And after, they're both a little too whiskey drunk to do anything more than kiss lazily under David's soft duvet, and they fall asleep curled together, the sound of David's deep breathing drowing out the noise of the world outside and lulling him to sleep.

\---

Patrick's birthday plan is _not_ going as intended.

"Hey, why don't we just-"

"No, David, I promised you a-"

"It's fine, Patrick, we can just-"

"This isn't-"

"Hey."

Patrick sighs and looks over at David, the hot summer rain drenching them both, David's hair plastered to his forehead because Patrick insisted he _had everything under control_ but still forgot to check the fucking forecast and bring an umbrella.

David reaches out and squeezes his arm briefly before dropping his hand and it _breaks Patrick's heart_. Even on David's _birthday_ he can't just _be_ with him. Because of his own bullshit.

He shouldn't have come here. God, he should've just waited until Miami and set up a nice dinner at the Airbnb and sent David flowers next week, this is stupid. He's an idiot.

"You being here is literally all I wanted," David tells him with a soft smile. "I don't... I don't need any of this," he says, gesturing to the restaurant that Patrick rented out, which they are now too _soaked through_ to really enjoy. "Can we just..." David wrings his hands and Patrick wants to cry out in frustration over this whole stupid day. "Can we just ask them to pack up our dinners to go, and maybe a bottle of wine," he continues, throwing Patrick a pointed wink, "And just go back and shower and eat in our warm, dry sweatpants?"

Patrick just nods. "Yeah, yeah, I'll um. I'll go in. You head back, take a shower, I'll meet you there?"

David nods and pulls his lips between his teeth, closing his eyes. Patrick recognizes that David is psyching himself up to say something Big. He loves that he knows his expressions so well now. He loves _him_.

"I wanted to give you something."

Which was... not what he expected he was going to say. "What? David, it's _your_ birthday."

"Right, yes, and I was _going_ to wait but it seems more practical to give it to you now and I know how much you love practicality."

Patrick laughs.

David nods once more before pulling out his wallet and unfolding a small manila envelope from the billfold, and presses it into Patrick's hand.

He can feel the shape through the paper. "David..."

He waves him off. "If you're going to be showing up on my doorstep, I would rather wake up to you crawling into bed with me than to the buzzer at ungodly hours of the night." The keys feel massive in his hands. "Besides, if you're going to bring dinner home while I'm showering, I certainly don't want you to stand outside and let our food get soggy, you know my conditioner has to sit for 15 minutes and I will not be getting out just to buzz you up."

Patrick looks at him, drinking in his boyfriend’s soft, open expression and inhales deeply, closing his fist tightly around the keys. "I can't believe you did this on the _sidewalk_ where I can't just..."

David smiles at him. "I'll see you back there." Then he turns and strides down the street through the rain. "And don't forget breadsticks!" He shouts over his shoulder.

Patrick laughs and pushes open the door to the restaurant, asking the host if he can get some things to go instead, and tips each member of the staff handsomely for the inconvenience.

\---

"Honestly I feel like I _still_ smell like sewer water and hot garbage, but this is still the nicest birthday I've ever had," David tells him later, curled up on the couch with some Meg Ryan movie playing in the background.

Patrick smiles into David's still-damp curls. He didn't style it after his shower, and it thrills Patrick a little that he gets this version of him.

"I'm sorry it didn't-"

"No, you're not allowed to apologize for _playing hooky from work_ to surprise me and planning a beautiful day at the museum _and_ tickets to the all-female _12 Angry Men_ revival _and_ a lovely dinner."

"But it-"

"No. Patrick? This was _perfect._ " David leans up and kisses him, before snuggling back into his chest. "It's _perfect._ "

Patrick wraps his arm around David's shoulders and pulls him a little closer.

And once the plot develops to the point where David's attention is fully invested in the movie, Patrick straddles his boyfriend's lap and sucks at his neck and whimpers in that way that he knows David loves and sighs into his ear, "Keep watching, I'll take care of this."

"Fuck you, Patrick," David groans.

"I wish you would," he quips, pushing his hips ever so slightly forward when he reaches into the side table and grabs the bottle of lube he stashed there earlier.

"Did you plan this?"

"Did I plan birthday sex while you watch your favorite movie?" He asks, faux-innocently. "Did I grab a bottle of lube while you were in the bathroom earlier and stash it in here just on the off chance that you would ' _suggest_ ' that we watch _You've Got Mail_?" He bites at that spot under David’s ear. “Did I _plan_ to open myself up and ride you right here on the couch and tell you to _focus on the movie_ ," He grinds out, gripping David's jaw and turning his face back toward the TV, "While I take care of everything here?" He flicks the tip of his tongue against David's Adam's apple, teasingly. "Nah. How could I _possibly_ have known this is what you would want to do tonight?"

And after, when Patrick has his face tucked into David's neck and the come is drying sticky on his stomach, he whispers, "Happy birthday, David."

David kisses the top of his hair. "It really was the best birthday, Patrick."

\---

He's tracing light patterns in David's chest hair the next morning when the buzzer goes off.

"Ugh," David groans, before looking at Patrick with pleading eyes.

"Don't look at me, I'm trying to limit how much I'm seen here."

Which is a bullshit lie. He knows _exactly_ who is at the door.

Which is why when David gets up to answer, Patrick slips out of the bedroom and leans on the kitchen island, watching as his boyfriend opens the door and sees the Gaga-o-Gram he ordered.

David looks confused for a second, like he's trying to place her. Like he should know the strange woman at his door in latex lingerie. (Actually, that's probably _exactly_ what he's thinking, if his stories about his past are anything to go on).

Until she starts singing, and he sees David's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open.

" _Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time and you said to me, ‘there's something, something about this place...’_ " She sings, fully in character. Patrick is getting his money's worth - and then some. He didn't know he'd be here to witness David's reaction when he ordered it. It's actually the first monthiversary gift he's been around to watch David receive, and he knows he made the right decision in choosing to send David these monthly embarrassments. He’s just glad he remembered to grab his phone from the nightstand so he could record this. " _Something about baby you and I... Oh you and I!_ " She belts, and David jumps, his eyes widening even further.

He’s glad David has the penthouse, so there are no prying neighbors privy to this moment.

" _It's been a long time since I came around, been a long time but I'm back in town. And this time I'm not leaving without you_ ," she finishes with a flourish, before handing David the card, which Patrick knows reads, "Too much? Happy 3 months, babe! :)" and turning back to the elevator.

"What. _The fuck_. Was that." David grinds out, turning to glare at Patrick, who suddenly feels more exposed standing under David's gaze than he did watching a strange woman serenade his boyfriend while he watched, wearing just his boxers.

"That was an anniversary gift for my boyfriend."

"Mm! Mmhmm. And now I have to tell you for the _third_ time that I don't _want_ a monthly anniversary gift! Why can't we just go day-to-day like normal people? I just... I just feel like we might be tempting fate."

Patrick rests his hands on his boyfriend's tense, bare shoulders. "We are not tempting fate, okay? It's not a big deal. You might even have a little bit of fun with it if you could just trust me on this."

David tucks the corner of his mouth between his teeth and considers him seriously for a moment, before his face breaks out in what Patrick recognizes as his 'take-your-pants-off' smirk. "Bedroom. Now."

"Am I in trouble?" Patrick asks, innocently.

"Oh yes. Yes, you are." David responds lowly, pushing Patrick down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Patrick laughs as he goes, reveling in David's hands on his body, encouraging him along.

"I told you," David says, biting hard on Patrick's collarbone as he turns him in his grasp and nudges him toward the bed. "That I didn't want," he twists one of his nipples just hard enough for Patrick to keen, before lightly pushing him onto his back on the bed and crawling over him. "Monthly anniversary gifts." He shoves a hand down Patrick's boxers and palms him firmly. "But you did it anyway."

"Sure did," Patrick breathes, rutting against his hand.

"Why?"

"Wanted to," he tells him.

"Why?" David repeats.

"Like you," he says with a whine. _God_ can David just _move_ already?

"Wanna use a full sentence there, _babe?_ "

Patrick leans up on his elbows and looks David in the eyes and says, "Will you just fuck me already?"

Thankfully, David complies. Patrick considers it his own three monthiversary gift.

\---

They're still lounging in bed a few hours later when Patrick's alarm goes off, indicating he needs to get up and pack to make his flight on time.

He presses forcefully at the screen, shutting it off.

"I don't want to go," he mumbles into David's neck.

He feels David smile against his hair. "I'll see you soon, though."

"Not soon enough," Patrick grumbles.

"Yeah, but I found those swim trunks."

Patrick leans up on his elbow. "Oh? I thought you didn't keep clothes that were more than two seasons old?"

David shrugs. "Okay, they’re not ‘clothes,’ and I may have found a pair on eBay and bought them."

He _feels_ himself melt at this. "You bought out-of-season clothes for me?"

"Okay, again, they're _swim trunks_ , not ' _clothes_ ,' and it's not a big deal, it's not like I'm going to be photographed in them."

Patrick lays his head down next to David's and kisses his cheek messily. "Oh, I'm gonna photograph you in them," he murmurs against his face. "Gonna take so. many. photos."

"Don't you dare."

"David?"

"Hmm?"

"I already miss you."

David throws his arm over Patrick's waist and pulls him in.

He doesn't say anything back, but Patrick has learned his body language by now.

And right now, David is holding him tight in the way that says, _I don't want you to go, but I know you have to, and I can't wait to see you again._

Patrick just wraps his own arms around him and holds him the same way.

"This was a good birthday present."

"It was just dinner, David."

"I meant you, being here," David pulls away and gives him a sad smile, before pulling him in for the softest, sweetest kiss of his life. "Thank you, Patrick."

"It was nothing."

"It was not nothing," David insists, dropping his forehead to rest against his chest for a moment.

Patrick hears a shuddering deep inhale before David pulls back, his eyes just barely pink-rimmed. "Come on, we need to get you to the airport."

\---

He posts the video he recorded for David's birthday from the airline lounge.

 **patrickbrewer:** Like @carlyraejepsen said, you're my favourite colour.

His phone dings with a new message a moment later.

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** oh fuck you.  
  


\---

On David's actual birthday, Patrick has ("Actually really nice, Patrick!" "Well, you don't need to sound _so_ shocked, I do have good taste." "Mm, yes, you are dating me, after all.") candlesticks sent to his apartment so they can have a romantic, candlelit dinner, and they enjoy a lovely meal of pancakes for David ("You said I could have anything I wanted, and I want breakfast for dinner! ...Stop laughing at me!") and room service pasta for Patrick ("I was gonna ask if they could make me pancakes but I'm an adult, so." "It's _my_ birthday, can I just have one night free from your _harassment_!")

He teases David for not doing anything for Patrick's birthday ("I didn't get pancakes for dinner for _my_ birthday." "You didn't _want_ fucking pancakes for dinner for your birthday! You didn't even _tell_ me it was your birthday!") and they watch a movie of David's choice and these Facetime dates are great, but Patrick misses the real thing.

Later, when he asks what song David wants him to upload for his birthday, he tells him, "Just please, god, no more Carly Rae, you've ruined enough Canadian masterpieces with your accordion."

His smile and soft expression say otherwise, but Patrick doesn't press him on it. He already has an idea for a birthday song anyway.

After his call with David he grabs up the ukulele he had picked up that afternoon and sets up his phone.

" _Oh baby, baby, the reason I breathe is you. Boy, you got me blinded. Oh, pretty baby, there's nothing that I wouldn't do_..." He smiles. David is going to _hate_ this. " _My loneliness is killing me, and I, I must confess I still believe. When I'm not with you I lose my mind_..."

 **patrickbrewer:** At least I didn't ruin any more Carly Rae, eh?

He wakes up the next day to only one message from David, and for a moment, he thinks he chose wrong, until he reads it.

**Messages with** thedavidrose  
  
**thedavidrose:** oh my god. seriously, fuck you.  
  


\---

The Airbnb is _nice_. Patrick spent his lonely, David-free nights last month browsing listings, until he found the secluded, modern home with great natural light, a pool, and — to David's delight — an espresso machine.

And Patrick, really gunning for his World's Best Boyfriend ribbon, may have requested that the owner stock the kitchen with caramel syrup, Splenda, and cocoa powder, just so David could enjoy his disgusting macchiatos on the deck each morning.

Because he _loves him_.

And he's trying to figure out the _fucking_ machine, and suddenly regretting his years at Rose Video when he could've been working at Starbucks so he knew how to... pull a shot? What the fuck?

He pulls up _another_ Youtube tutorial, since the first three were so wildly unhelpful for him, and packs the grounds with a sigh.

The second the machine whirs to life, the video pauses and his ringer goes off.

**Incoming Call: Rachel**

He hits ignore, too frustrated for this conversation right now.

As soon as the video starts playing, his phone dings again, quickly followed by two more messages.

**iMessage:** Rachel  
  
**Thu, May 10,** 11:12 PM  
**Rachel:** Hey, are you okay? You haven't been answering my calls or my texts.  
  
**Fri, May 18,** 8:35 AM  
**Rachel:** Can we talk?  
  
**Fri, May 25,** 7:58 PM  
**Rachel:** So, Alexis Rose, eh?  
  
**Today** 2:24 PM  
**Rachel:** Are you being serious?  
  
**Rachel:** I just want to talk.  
  
**Rachel:** I deserve answers, Patrick.  
  


  


He swipes away the notification and makes a mental note to call her later. She does deserve answers.

As soon as he can figure out this _fucking_ espresso machine before David arrives tomorrow.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:13 PM  
**David:** in a car now, i should be there soon  
  
**David:** please have coffee ready omg  
  


  


Patrick smiles, typing out an affirmative before getting to work on the espresso machine.

He's sprinkling the cocoa powder over his fifth attempt at a caramel macchiato when David walks in the door.

"This is nice!" David exclaims, like didn't trust Patrick on this.

"It's like you have no faith in me," Patrick responds as he steps into the entry, David's mug extended in front of him.

David grabs for the mug with greedy hands, taking a long sip, closing his eyes to savor it, paying his boyfriend absolutely no mind. Patrick is only a little offended.

But he knows David couldn't find a direct flight that day and had to fly out of Newark, then to an hourlong layover in Charlotte, and then finally to Miami. He also knows that David didn't want to waste the day traveling, so he got the first flight out, leaving at 8 o'clock.

They have two and a half days together in Miami, and Patrick isn't going to spend a second of them petulant that David chose to wrap his lips around his coffee first, instead of around Patrick's own. Or any part of him, really.

Instead, he watches his boyfriend war with the thought of either gulping down the drink or savoring it. He settles somewhere in the middle, his eyes closed as he enjoys the big gulps he takes and lets the coffee slide over his tongue.

But thinking about David's tongue lapping up his coffee is not helping Patrick be patient, so he pushes off the doorframe and grabs David's bags, tossing over his shoulder, "I'll just give you two a moment alone."

"Mm, thanks."

He watches David take another slow sip before heading upstairs to the bedroom.

He sets David's bags down on the bed (which David would never do and has chastised him for doing in the past, since "airplane germs do not belong on the same surface where your perfect body will be naked later, Patrick!") and starts digging through for the swim trunks. He smiles when he unzips his carry-on and finds them folded perfectly on top.

"Did you think I was gonna waste time looking for them?" David asks from the doorway. The mug is gone, but Patrick knows it's been put away in the dishwasher. David may not be the picture of domesticity, but he likes things clean. "I wanted to make sure they were easily accessible the second I got here."

"Oh?"

David steps in the room and drapes his arms over Patrick's shoulders. Patrick's hands settle naturally in their place on David's lower back. "Yes. I have _plans_. My boyfriend mentioned last week how much he likes them, and I live to serve."

He _feels_ that sentence in his bones. "Okay, well, we are _definitely_ going to explore that later, but right now, I just want you to put these shorts on and meet me downstairs. I have to leave in a few hours and I want to make sure we get in a _thorough_ pool workout."

David smirks at him, his eyes darkening.

"Yes, sir."

Oh, _fuck_.

Patrick ends up arriving late to the stadium, but he has no regrets, even if his hamstrings _are_ a little sore from where his boyfriend hitched both of Patrick's ankles over his shoulders and fucked his thighs against the side of the pool, the concrete scratching at his shoulders as the water lapped at their bodies while David wrapped a fist around him, the taste of David's coffee lingering on Patrick's tongue when he shouted as he came.

\---

Patrick is getting used to coming home from games to find David on his sofa, watching the post-game show.

"Patrick!" David greets him excitedly, standing and throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

He's getting used to this, too.

"Hey, _babe_ ," he teases. "Enjoy the game?"

"Mm, fishing for compliments is not cute." David leans in to kiss him again, then pulls back and runs his hands over Patrick's shoulders. "You made your 50th RBI of the season tonight."

And oh, _fuck_ , hearing David talk baseball stats was _seriously_ doing it for him.

"I did, yes."

David smiles. "It was very impressive."

"How impressive, though?"

"Impressive enough to let you make dinner for us tonight," David quips with a smile.

Patrick barks a laugh. "Can't even feel you up a bit to celebrate?"

David pushes him toward the kitchen. "I need energy to celebrate you properly. Feed me, and you can do whatever you want to my body."

Patrick starts pulling ingredients out to assemble the simple pasta dish he was planning for tonight. " _Whatever_ I want?" He jokes.

"Yes," David responds. Patrick can't quite make out his tone.

He glances over his shoulder. He can't quite parse out Davids's expression, either. And this was something they hadn't talked about yet, no matter how much phone sex they had. "David..."

"Okay, so, maybe not _anything..._ "

Patrick laughs. "Good, because we only have the pool for one more night and I had about five more ideas for it." He steps over to the sink to fill the pot and glances over his shoulder, locking eyes with his boyfriend, and half-teasing, "Besides, the first time I fuck you, I want to spend _hours_ just taking you apart, and it's already late."

David sputters, clearly surprised.

"Can you hand me the salt, please, _babe_?"

David pulls the salt down from the cabinet and nudges Patrick's hip with his. "Can we stop with the 'babe' thing now?"

"Oh, I don't think so."

David rolls his eyes, but says nothing. Patrick thinks he secretly likes the pet name, even if they only ever say it ironically.

They work in silence for a bit, David absentmindedly stirring the pot to keep the pasta from sticking, Patrick adding herbs to the sauce and browning the meat, worrying he took the teasing too far as the silence stretches on.

He's fine with their sex life how it is. Yeah, he'd love to fuck his boyfriend, to be inside him, to feel that close to him when they... but it's _fine_. He loves everything they've done so far. He doesn't need more.

He opens his mouth to say so.

"Thank you," David says quietly. Patrick's mouth snaps shut. "I've, um. I've never had someone want to..." He clears his throat. "I don't, um, _prefer_ bottoming because I don't really trust people." He glares at the pot, avoiding eye contact. "It's never really been... good? For me?" he glances over at Patrick, who couldn't tear his eyes away from him if he tried. The house could be burning down around them and his gaze would still be stuck here, on this incredible man. David takes a deep breath. "The photos, at my gallery? It's... it's _always_ been like that. It wasn't ever... No one has..." he inhales and Patrick sees him clench his fists in his periphery. Patrick just stares, dumbfounded. "I do like it, when I do it to myself, I just haven't had someone that... Who wanted _me_ to enj..." He turns his face to the ceiling and blinks once, twice, before squeezing his eyes shut. Patrick watches as he shakes his head and clears his throat, his watery gaze returning to meet his. "But I think I do. Trust you, I mean."

He hadn't actually _said_ anything, but Patrick gets it. Patrick _sees_ it. Sees _him._ And Patrick _loves_ every fucking perfect thing about him.

He thinks about the keys David trusted him with in New York, and how they look on his keychain, against the keys to his condo.

Patrick almost tells him then. He almost says it. _David, I love you, I will never hurt you, you can trust me_.

What comes out instead is a reverent, "Thank you, David."

David sniffs and clears his throat, a harsh, forced grin splitting his face. "Okay, so! Pasta!"

Patrick smiles softly and leans over to kiss him, a gentle, adoring press of lips. "Will you get the plates?"

And just like that, they're back.

And they sit and eat and they talk about David's college internship and Patrick's rookie year. David pulls up Patrick's rookie photo on his phone and coos over him ("You were a _fetus_!" "I was 24!" "An infant, at best.") before he crawls into his lap right there at the dining table and kisses him until his hips are pushing up into David's and they go upstairs to change ("I don't see why we're pretending like we're actually going to wear these shorts." "Well, David, because I want to see you in those one last time before you leave.").

They share a lounge chair, breathing into each other's mouths, fighting over who can hitch their leg over the other's hips, slowly pressing against each other, before Patrick pulls him into the pool and ducks his head below the water, taking David into his mouth until he runs out of air.

When he resurfaces, David has a dreamy look on his face - something faraway and soft and tinged with sadness, and Patrick gets it, recognizes it as the look he gets when he thinks about having this with him for real, instead of for stolen weekends and short visits.

So he leans forward and kisses him thoroughly, until David nudges his trunks downs his hips and hitches Patrick's legs around his waist, slides his hand around to grab his ass and presses them together with delicious, slick friction until Patrick comes with a cry and bites into David's shoulder before dragging his teeth and his lips over David's ear and begging him to fuck him.

"You'll be sensitive," David warns.

He knows, and it might not feel good, he knows he won't come, but the thought of not ending this night as close to David as possible sounds worse. "I know. I just... I want you."

He hears David open the lube they dropped on the side of the pool earlier, then he hears his arm drop back in below the water, then he feels his finger press against him, and it's only then that Patrick realizes he has his eyes closed. They're still pressed together, David's arm between them, as he pushes one finger, then two, then three into him, stretching him open gently.

And David was right, it's so much. Patrick feels like he's dying, like he has been wrung completely out and yet at the same time, he feels full to bursting with David inside him and around him, and he loves him so fucking much that he wants to cry.

And when David hops out of the pool to put a condom on, all Patrick can think is that he loves him, loves him, _loves him_ and that the water surrounding him is a poor substitute for David's arms.

But David is back quickly, gently turning Patrick to bend slightly over the edge of the pool and pushing into him, the concrete pricking at his nipples harshly and deliciously as David unrelentingly fucks him, whispering words of praise and adoration into his ear with each snap of his hips.

"Fuck, Patrick, you're so fucking perfect, you're so good, you're so..." and he rests a hand gently against Patrick's throat, easing him back against his chest and drives into him. He slides his hand down to take Patrick in hand — god, when did he even get hard again? — and he's weightless and anchored only by David's hands on him, by David's chest along his spine and he feels like he's _dying,_ but _god_ , what a way to go. David keeps up the rhythm until Patrick feels him stutter and hears his choked-off groan in his ear as he drives into him once more, his hand working Patrick quickly as he follows him over the edge.

He feels like he has been ripped apart and reassembled, better than he was before.

He has David Rose, all around and inside him on a warm summer night, and he hasn't ever, ever felt anything close to this.

David gently pulls out and pulls the condom off, dropping it onto the deck as he turns Patrick around to face him. He lifts Patrick's arms to settle across his shoulders and gently wraps Patrick's legs around his waist, holding him close. One of David's hands settles low on his back, the other scratching gently at the short hair at the base of his neck.

"Shh, Patrick, it's okay, I got you..."

He didn't even realize he was breathing so harshly into the crook of David's neck.

"God, David, I-" He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale.

He almost said it.

He almost fucking told David that he loves him just because he thoroughly fucked his brains out.

And yeah, there are more embarrassing ways he could tell him - when David is complaining about a stomachache from too much ice cream, or when David is bitching about work, or when David calls him as he walks home and yells at a cab driver who runs a red light, or when David first wakes up and his breath is stale and sour and his eyes are crusty at the corners, or when David surreptitiously lights a candle in the bathroom of every hotel they visit to cover any embarrassing odors. Because Patrick loves him through all of those moments. He could tell him at any time, but he doesn't think he could handle David's ego if he fucked it out of him.

And it's too soon. He knows he's not ready to hear it just yet. But he can be patient. He can love him in secret for a little longer.

When Patrick finally catches his breath, David pulls back slightly, searching his face. "Are you okay? You were kinda out of it for a second."

Patrick laughs lightly. "Yeah, well, you fucked my brains out in a _pool_ , David. You made me come twice. After I played the longest game of my life today. I'm fucking exhausted."

David smiles at him before pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. "Let's get you to bed, then."

"I really don't think I'm up for round three..." He jokes.

David smirks. "Is that a challenge?" He volleys back.

Patrick groans. His boyfriend laughs at him, holding him tight for a moment before he pulls Patrick from the water and wraps him up in a dry towel and helps him inside to get ready for bed.

\---

He knows David has to leave in a few hours, but he's enjoying this time with him, curled up on the sofa and drinking coffee and tea, the sunlight glittering off the surface of the pool just outside the patio doors, scrolling through his phone.

"Can you help me with something?" Patrick asks.

"Depends on what," David answers, honestly.

"I want to do an Instagram live."

"Okay, so do it."

"...I don't know how."

David snorts. "You're such a _grandpa_ , oh my god."

Patrick just smiles patiently at him.

"And what exactly will you be doing in this broadcast?"

"I wanted to sing something."

David grimaces. "So you're going to sing some horribly maudlin pop song at me in front of... however many people watch this thing?"

"Hypothetically. You know, since I can't imagine you _willingly_ going to an open mic night, this seems like the best option."

"Do you promise you won't ruin any more Carly Rae?"

"I promise I won't play Carly Rae."

"That's not what I asked." David wiggles his shoulders a bit. "Ugh, _fine_ , but only because no one will know I'm here."

Patrick leans over to press his lips against his cheek. "Thank you, David."

"Okay, you thank me now, but I am a ruthless director. Now, where is your ring light?"

"My what?"

David rolls his eyes. "I hate that you look so good in your ridiculous little videos, and you don't even have proper lighting." Patrick grins at him, but David is already standing and looking for... something. "Okay, okay," he says, grabbing one of the dining chairs and pulling it to the corner of the living room, where the light streams in from the sliding glass doors, the occasional reflection of light off the pool casting beautiful shadows. "Sit."

Patrick obeys. David studies him for a moment, before reaching forward and gripping the back of the chair in one hand, the seat of the chair between Patrick's thighs in the other, and angling him another inch. And yeah, it's kinda hot to be manhandled like this by his gorgeous boyfriend, whose hair is still sleep-rumpled, his lounging sweater hanging softly over his shoulders. He can't stop himself from leaning up and kissing him.

David pulls back. "We're losing the good morning light here, so no time for that. Where is your tripod?"

Patrick laughs.

Once everything is set up (David testing no less than eight camera angles before finding the perfect one) and he has his guitar over his lap, David quirks an eyebrow at him. "Ready to do this?"

"Are _you_?"

"No, but I suppose I'll live."

Patrick grins at him. "Press the button."

David does.

Patrick waits a moment for viewers to join, before taking a deep breath. "Hi, everyone. Um. Wanted to try something a little different here." He picks at the chords a bit. "This uh, this song goes out to a very special someone in my life," he says, glancing at David, who looks adorably terrified from his place behind the camera. Patrick has to physically root himself to the chair to keep from abandoning his plan and crawling back into his lap. "Hope you like it."

He plucks at the strings for a moment before his voice fills the room. " _I call you when I need you and my heart's on fire..._ " David's entire body shifts to pay attention, and Patrick feels the corners of his mouth quirk up. " _Take my heart and make it strong,_ babe," he quirks an eyebrow playfully at David. " _Cuz you're simply the best, better than all the rest, better than anyone, anyone I've ever met. And I'm stuck on your heart. I hang on every word you say..._ "

He's usually played straightforward covers. Some slight rearranging to play ABBA on the piano or Rihanna on the guitar, but he's never taken something and turned it into his, made it fit what his sound would be if he was ever willing to release his own music. He never really felt comfortable putting himself out there like this, making the song his own. But he wants David to know that this is _him_.

He's played David his own music before, once, but David hasn't asked him to play something of his own again. The first one was heavy, introspective. It was about his journey and self-loathing and all of his regrets.

This one is full of promise, of hope. Of every overwhelming thing Patrick feels for him.

He _needs_ him to understand that this is his. That _Patrick_ is his.

" _Oh, you're the best_ ," he finishes with a soft smile. David lifts a hand to his mouth, his eyes glassy, and Patrick feels his smile crack into a wide grin.

He remembers his audience after a beat, and raises a hand in an awkward half-wave before David turns off the recording and climbs into his lap.

"Patrick..." David's voice catches on his name and Patrick has never loved a sound more.

"So you liked it?"

"Stop fishing for compliments," David says, tucking his face into the crooks of Patrick's neck.

Patrick feels some of David's tears spill onto his collarbone, but he says nothing, just holds him tightly. _I don't want you to go, but I know you have to, and I can't wait to see you again because I am in love with you._

Eventually, David pushes himself off his lap and pulls Patrick into the kitchen for breakfast and before he knows it, David's bags are sitting in the foyer and he's saying goodbye.

"We're in Toronto for nine days starting next Monday," Patrick tells him.

David nods. "I know. I um, I may have already bought a flight."

Patrick grins, and pulls him in for a tight hug.

It's only eight days away. They've gone much longer before.

It just feels like so much longer. He thinks it's because there's so many things he's left unsaid.

"I'll see you soon?" He whispers fiercely into David's hair.

"See you soon," David confirms.

Then he presses his lips to his and he's out the door.

Patrick misses him already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -You and I by Lady Gaga (Patrick's anniversary present serenades David)  
> -Favourite Colour by Carly Rae Jepsen (Patrick uploads it right after leaving David's)  
> -...Baby One More Time by Britney Spears (Patrick's birthday song for David)  
> -Simply the Best by Noah Reid (Patrick serenades David via Instagram Live)
> 
> All are in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	7. the battleships will sink beneath the waves (david)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David arrives for a week in Toronto, and learns some hard truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of ways to thank you all for your continued support of this fic, but I am so grateful and blown away by it. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
>   
> Also, the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated for this chapter, featuring a personal favorite David/Patrick banger.  
>   
> \--  
> title from "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift  
>   
>   
> 

David has spent the last week buried up to his neck in artist meetings and brainstorming his next show, but nothing has felt right. He’s met with a dozen artists and none of them _get it_ and he’s exhausted and drained from the constant wining and dining of New York’s most pretentious.

But now, he's finally, _finally_ in Toronto (after a departure delay and then a fucking eternal ground hold) to see his wonderful boyfriend and spend an entire week in his bed and watch him play baseball in those lovely, tight baseball pants, and he couldn't be happier.

He's just unlocking his phone to order a car when he sees Ivan standing at baggage, a sign with David's alias (Ryan Carey, after Meg and Mariah, naturally) in his hands.

"What are you doing here? I was going to call an Uber."

"Patrick said flight delayed. He want to make sure you make it to game, so he send me. I'll get bags."

Ivan has a cart ready for his luggage (Patrick must have warned him how many bags David would be bringing for the week, and it feels like Patrick is teasing him, even from across the city. It makes David's chest warm to think about.).

Once they're settled in the car, he opens his messages to let Patrick know he's on his way.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 1:17 PM  
**David:** finally off the plane good god  
  
**David:** with ivan now but traffic sucks, i might miss the first inning  
  
**David:** not sure if you still have your phone, but if so, good luck! cant wait to see you after xx  
**Patrick:** Turning it off now, wanted to make sure you got to Ivan okay first. See you soon, babe! ;)  
**Today** 1:19 PM  
**David:** can we please stop with babe now  
**David:** i see youre on airplane mode now. asshole.  
**David:** youre gonna have to make this up to me later though  
  


  


He chats idly with Ivan about the weather and work, mindlessly scrolling Twitter when the conversation lulls. He swipes over to Instagram, and sees a new Patrick video sitting right at the top of his feed. He fumbles for his AirPods, sets down Patrick's Blue Jays mug that he gave back to him in Miami, and turns up the volume.

" _You know just what to say,_ " video-Patrick croons, seated at his keyboard, slowing down the chords until the song is thick and heavy, moving through the notes like they're molasses. " _Shit that scares me, I should just walk away, but I can't move my feet. The more that I know you the more I want to. Something inside me's changed, I was so much younger yesterday._ " He looks directly into the camera, and David feels like the breath has been knocked out of his chest.

" _I didn't know that I was starving till I tasted you,_ " he sings lowly, his tongue curling around every vowel the way it curls around David. " _Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo. By the way, you do things to my body. I didn't know that I was starving till I tasted you._ "

It's sweet and it's sexy and he is so fucking turned on, but he's heading to a baseball game with his entire family and won't get to put his hands on Patrick's bare skin for at least nine hours.

Fucking Laguardia. He was supposed to land three hours ago, which would've given him enough time to suck Patrick's perfect dick before the game, but no. Now he has to sit at Rogers with his father and his sister and, _god_ , even his mother — oh god, even worse, with _Stevie_ — and watch Patrick parade around in those baseball pants for _hours_ before he can get his mouth on _any_ part of him.

The world is unfair.

He watches the video one more time before liking the post and leaving a comment.

 **thedavidrose** : 🔥

He notices some other comments from their little group and smiles.

 **stevie_budd** : to quote @alexis in season 3 episode 12 of @alittlebitalexis, "ew."  
**alexis** : @stevie_budd 🌴  


**mullensitover** : Great job, bud! 👍🏻

 **alexis** : ✨🌼🐣💛🍋🥇🚕📒☺️

Which... what does that even mean?

"You been good?" Ivan asks, pulling his focus back to the present.

David smiles, biting down on the inside of his lower lip to keep it under control. "Yeah, yes. Very good."

"Patrick good?"

He nods. "We're very good, yes."

"Good. You both deserve to be happy."

Ivan hands David the AUX cord, and that's that for conversation.

"I'll take bags to Patrick's. Sven will pick up tonight," Ivan tells him as they approach the stadium.

David nods. "Thanks, Ivan. Any big plans for your night off?"

He shrugs. "Bake cinnamon rolls, watch movie."

"You bake?"

"Yes."

"Ugh, I _wish_ I could bake cinnamon rolls. Patrick used to feed me waffles for breakfast but he has given up all pretense of romance in our relationship at this point and only makes eggs or greek yogurt parfaits and what kind of sociopath wants to start their day like that?"

Ivan smiles at him. "I will bring you cinnamon roll tomorrow."

"Thank you, Ivan."

He taps his thumbs on the steering wheel while he waits for the red light to change. "I drive Patrick for six year," He says. "Six year, he never smile much. He smile all time now." David catches his eye in the rearview. "He is happy, thanks to you."

He bites down on his lip again. "He makes me happy, too."

"Good." Ivan pulls into the drop off zone and throws the car in park. "Have good time at game."

David hops out and waves goodbye, before hurrying to will call and then up to their box.

"Oh, the prodigal son returns!" Moira greets him.

"Oh my god, David, you missed it, Ted hit the ball into the crowd over to that side," Alexis tells him, jumping up to meet him, her speech rapid-fire as she waves excitedly toward the crowd along the first base line. "I don't know what it means, but he hit it like, _so_ hard."

David pats her on the arm. "That's a foul ball, Alexis, and it means absolutely nothing."

"Well then how come it's a big deal when _Patrick_ hits it and it goes into the crowd over there!" She waves her hand toward the outfield.

"That's called a home run and it means that my boyfriend is better at baseball than yours."

"Ugh, David!"

David turns toward his dad. "Patrick hit a home run already? And I missed it?"

Johnny shrugs. "Sorry, son. I can pull up the replay if you'd like."

He shakes his head. "No, thanks. Anything else? Did he break 75 RBI before I got here?"

His whole family (and Stevie, who counts) gapes at him.

"What?"

"You like, _know_ baseball."

He squints at them. "Yeah, of course I do, my boyfriend plays baseball for a living, I've picked some things up."

"And how much has Patrick _picked up_ about art?" Stevie asks, mock-innocently.

"For your information, Patrick has a _very_ discerning eye. And I don't like what you're implying."

"Oh," his mother breathes.

"What?" David demands.

"You are feeling rather amorous toward your new beau," Moira replies, a hint of something in her voice. Pride, maybe? Or pity? Oh, god, is it pity?

"Okay, yes, it may come as a _shock_ to you _monsters_ , that yeah, I _like_ my boyfriend, so maybe we can just tone it down a bit?"

"Speaking of toning it down," Stevie tells him with that obnoxious shit-eating grin on her face. "This was sent up for you before the game."

She steps aside and he sees an open pastry box, a comically large cookie heart nestled inside with the words "4 Months!" written on it in pink icing.

Considering Patrick's previous monthiversary gifts, he thinks this is downright tame and not nearly as humiliating as a truckload of roses or a 6-foot-tall teddy bear or a fucking Gaga-o-Gram.

Until he sees the vulturous looks of his family and realizes that, _oh_ , them bearing witness is the embarrassing part of this particular celebration.

"Why would Patrick do this?"

 _Love_ , Stevie mouths. David shoots her a look.

"That's what we first thought," Moira says. "But then Alexis informed us that this is the longest relationship you've ever had!"

"Four whole _months_ , David!" Alexis squeals.

Stevie just keeps grinning at him.

"Well, this calls for a celebration. We'll toast to your successful partnership at dinner tonight," Johnny says.

"Please, can we not make a big deal out of this?"

"Too late, son, we've already ordered a case of champagne, and it is en route to the house."

"A _case_?"

"Well, we have to account for Stevie taking four bottles home," Alexis quips, booping her on the nose. Stevie grimaces from the display of familial affection, but nods, smiling uncomfortably.

Alexis loops her arm through Stevie's and pulls her back over to their seats outside, overlooking the stadium. Johnny steps to the bar to refill his whiskey, and Moira glides over to the sofas lining the wall and picks up her book.

David pulls his phone out and surreptitiously takes a photo of the cookie.

He still hates these fucking monthiversaries. He's just... never had someone care enough to celebrate any milestones with him and he wants to have proof, something he can take out to look at when they've gone too long without seeing each other, or when he's feeling particularly insecure, or for the inevitable day when Patrick has moved on to someone worthy of his time and affection. So he can flip through the handful of pictures and say, " _See? Someone did want me, once, and it was the best damn four months of my life._ "

The thought makes him shove a handful of cookie in his mouth.

It's still soft and warm.

His boyfriend is a fucking menace.

\---

Patrick and Ted are already waiting outside the locker room, signing a few autographs when the Roses' car pulls around to get them.

By the time they're walking into Rose Manor, Twitter is convinced that this is irrefutable proof that David and Ted are in love, and that Patrick and Alexis are "getting serious."

It makes David want to pull his hair out. Patrick just drops a kiss to his cheek and tells him to stop worrying about it.

Which is easy for him to say. He's not the one the internet is _slandering_ by saying he would date _Ted_.

"I'm gonna go grab a drink," Patrick tells him once they're settled in the sitting room. "Can I bring you something?"

David presses a quick kiss to his lips. He may be mad at him — for a myriad of reasons, but most of all the cookie — but he still hasn't seen him in over a week, and he is wearing David's favorite jeans, and that white shirt that sits open at the neck, the second button just a little lower than his other shirts.

"Can you grab me a vodka soda? There should be soda-"

"In the door of the fridge, I remember. Two ice cubes?"

"Yes, please. And a-"

"Lime wedge, got it."

Patrick presses another kiss to his lips before disappearing out of the sitting room.

"David, how is the gallery coming along?" His father asks, and suddenly they're all talking business. Apparently, Alexis is on track to graduate a semester early, even though she's taking the summer off to film another season of _A Little Bit Alexis_ (which is news to David, as he apparently " _has_ to get to LA at _some_ point this summer, David! You've been in every season so far!"), his dad and Stevie are planning a big Great Lakes expansion in the US, buying up motels all across the region to renovate over the next year for a big "summer fun" promotion planned for the coming summer (and when his dad innocently suggests that maybe he and Patrick "take some time off next summer for a little getaway together" and offers to rent out an entire motel for their privacy, well, David decidedly does _not_ get choked up at the idea that his dad not only thinks he can hang on to Patrick for an entire year but is also so supportive of their relationship and waves him off), and Ted is even working with an animal rescue for a team sponsorship event ("You _know_ he went to _veterinary school_ , David!" which, no, he did not, and no, he is _not_ impressed by that at all, and no, he does _not_ think it's nice that his sister finally found someone as brilliant as she is because he will never admit that either one of them is).

"It would only be fair," Moira is saying, breezing through the doorway with Patrick, and oh _god_ , what is she saying to him? "Please say yes."

Patrick is laughing lightly, and sits next to David, handing him his drink. "Thanks," he whispers.

Patrick just squeezes his shoulder in reply.

"David, Patrick and I were just chatting about his schedule, and he confirmed that he would be available to come to our annual Rose Foundation Gala this year!"

"That is excellent news," David deadpans.

"Why didn't you tell me that I was invited to the Gala?"

"Because the Gala is a truly embarrassing parade of truly embarrassing people and I do not want you subjected to that part of my life just yet."

"Oh my _god,_ David, are you gonna perform The Number?" Alexis asks, needling.

He glares at her. "The Number is strictly a Christmas Party exclusive, so. No."

"Uh, sorry, what is The Number?" Patrick asks.

Alexis purses her lips and pulls her arm out from where it was nestled in the crook of Ted's elbow so she can gesture properly. "It's this performance that David and Mom do every year at our Christmas party, and it is..."

"Truly indescribable," Stevie supplies.

"Yes, yes, exactly."

"And this will be happening at the Gala?" Patrick asks.

"Oh, David, we really should, everyone loves The Number! I'm sure Pat would love to see it, he could accompany us!"

"Okay, we are not doing 'Pat,' and can I please _borrow_ you for a moment?" David asks, stalking into the hallway.

"What are you doing?" He asks, rounding on her when they're out of earshot.

"David, you can't blame us for being excited! Your father and I weren't involved in your past relationships. And from what I hear it was one bungle after another."

"I-" He starts.

"But after spending five minutes alone with sweet Pat-"

"Again, we are _not_ doing 'Pat.'"

His mother deflates. "He sees you," she tells him, more honest and earnest than he has ever seen her. He feels the tears sting at his eyes. "For all that you are."

"Okay, well... hopefully not _all_ that I am..." He turns, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. They're just a bit damp, that's all.

"David, you have the opportunity to climb out of the quicksand that was your past and stand firmly in present. Let us celebrate that."

He sighs. "Fine, he can come to the Gala."

"Lovely, and he will be performing."

"What?" He hisses.

"He seemed quite taken with the Steinway in the great room, so, I insisted."

David pictures it for a moment, Patrick running his hand reverently over the instrument and whistling lowly, his mother caring enough to give him the opportunity to perform on it. It makes his heart clench fondly.

"Fine. But I won't let him through the door if he brings his guitar. Or god forbid, that _stupid_ accordion."

"Your demands have been noted." Moira smiles at him, her eyes warmer than he can ever remember. "I really am ecstatic for you, dear. He is a strapping young man, and he is _quite_ enamored with you."

"Okay, my drink is going flat, so let's just head back in."

"Patrick," he hears his sister say as he walks back into the room. "Did we ever tell you about the basketball court Dad got David for his bar mitvah?"

Patrick's eyes go wide and honestly, why does David bring him here?

\---

They're still a little tipsy when they pull up to Patrick's condo, laughing heartily with Stevie, Alexis, and Ted in the back of the car.

"Who's that?" Stevie asks as, just as David opens the door, stepping out of the car with Patrick.

"Patrick, I've had plenty of stalkers, if you just give them a lock of your hair, they usually leave you alone," Alexis says, still tapping away at her phone.

David glances back and sees their expressions — Stevie's confusion, Alexis' disinterest, and Ted's concern.

It doesn't help him figure this out at all.

"Rachel, what are you doing here?" Patrick calls.

 _Rachel_? Who the fuck is Rachel?

"Well, I wanted to ask you if I should just give you your engagement ring back since this is apparently over for you," she responds, eyes sweeping over the mismatched group behind him, and David's entire world grinds to a halt. He can't remember how to breathe, suddenly. "Would've been nice if you told me yourself, but since you weren't answering your phone, I thought I'd ask you in person." She glances over his shoulder again before directing her glare directly at him. "So, it's true, then?"

He's nauseous, and he feels like he's going to faint right here on the sidewalk in Patrick's quiet cul-de-sac, in front of his neighbors.

He's going to pass out, because Patrick's _fianceé_ is here. On his doorstep.

 _Fianceé, fianceé, fianceé_ , his mind chants.

And how will that look, to Patrick's neighbors? To have David Rose cause a scene because he found out Patrick has a very-female fianceé?

Oh my god, he's Patrick's Other Woman. He's the dirty little secret.

"Um, I'm sorry," David whispers. "You're... you're engaged?"

Patrick turns to him, eyes wide and wild. "No, no, I mean, I-I'm not... now..." He glances back over his shoulder at Rachel. "But at one point, we were..."

The woman — _Rachel_ — looks between them, confused. "Patrick, what's going on?"

"When?" David breathes.

"What?"

"When were you engaged?"

"David, I broke things off before I met you, I swear, I-"

"I have to go," he's still whispering. He's afraid if he speaks any louder, he will get hysterical and cause a scene.

"David-" Patrick starts, reaching for him.

David pulls his arm away. "No, no, you should... You should stay here. With your _fianceé_."

"David-!"

He stumbles back into the car. "Please, drive, Sven."

He thinks he hears Patrick call out his name one more time. He can't hear much of anything over the roaring in his ears.

They're pulling away from the curb when he feels Alexis' arms wrap around him on one side, Stevie's on the other, and he feels like he is cracking apart, just sitting there, staring at the floor of the car.

He clasps his hands tightly between his knees. Maybe if he squeezes hard enough, it will hold him together.

He holds it together until he's in Stevie's shower. He leans his head under the water and realizes that all of his products are in his luggage, back at Patrick's, and it breaks him open all over again. For the first time that night, he lets himself sob.

He clings to the hope that what he said was true, that Patrick wasn’t cheating on him — or cheating _with_ him. But still, he thinks about all the lies Patrick has told him over the last four months, all the stories he must have revised. He thinks about all the ways that he let David open up, talk about Sebastien and the birthday clown and Stevie, and never mentioned this huge part of his past. Was David not important enough to him?

He's _breaking_ , in a way he never has before.

And the worst part is, that he misses him. That he wishes he were here to hold him, to keep him together.

Because he loves him.

Of _course_ he realizes it then.

He's in love with Patrick, who has made him feel safe and cared for and who feels like _home_.

Who just broke his heart in the worst way. Because he _trusted him_. Because he let Patrick see him, _know him_. Because he _loves_ him, in a way he's never loved anyone.

David thinks about that moment, years ago, when he walked into Sebastien's gallery and saw those photos of himself on display.

He can't decide if this is worse because he trusted Patrick so completely, or better because he still has hope that Patrick isn't the monster Sebastien was.

He wonders if that's naive, or if it's based on the last four months of evidence, of gentle care.

Either way, he sobs under the spray of Stevie's shower, thinking about Patrick's smile, and his gentle, calloused hands, and the way he whispers David's name in the dark, and the horrified, guilty look on his face when David figured out who Rachel was to him.

He sobs until his chest aches and the water goes cold, but he manages to keep the panic attack at bay.

That night, after Alexis falls asleep next to him in Stevie's guest room, he imagines Patrick is there, holding him through it, holding him together.

And he hates himself for still wanting that. He hates Patrick for it, a little bit. And he hates him because he _wants_ to hate him more, but he loves him so completely that he could never hate him as much as he deserves for doing this.

He taught himself how to deal with his pain and anger and panic and anxiety on his own, and in four months, Patrick Brewer weaseled his way so deeply into his life that he doesn't _want_ to deal with it alone anymore.

And now he has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -Starving by Hailee Steinfeld, Grey & Zedd (David plays Patrick's video on his way to his game the first night)
> 
> This is of course added to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	8. in my defense i have none (patrick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David takes some time. Patrick sends some olive branches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for all your continued support and kind words about this fic (even if I apparently hurt your feelings with the last chapter), it means so much.
> 
> The [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated with music from this chapter.
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "the 1" by taylor swift

"Thanks for calling," Patrick says as he moves aside to let Stevie in.

"I'm not here for you," she says dismissively. "Where's your fianceé?"

"I don't have a fianceé," he tells her. "But Rachel is probably at a hotel by now."

She narrows her eyes at him. "So what happened?"

He shrugs. "I broke things off with her last year. Apparently she was assuming we'd get back together, but then she heard I was dating Alexis. When I didn't answer her texts, she just wanted an explanation." He shrugs. "So I told her the truth."

"Which is?"

He looks her directly in the eye. He knows she's the gatekeeper to David, and he's not going to fuck this up. "That it's over. That I'm sorry for not explaining myself when I broke up with her, but that I'm gay. And that I'm absolutely crazy about my boyfriend."

She looks at him for a moment, searching his expression before asking, "Are you in love with him?"

"I'd really like to tell him first."

She raises her eyebrows. "Why didn't you?"

He shrugs. "I was waiting until he was ready to hear it."

Her eyes soften, She nods again, before telling him, "He might have been, soon. But you really set that back by a few months."

"I know." He looks at the ground, and scuffs at the floor with his socked foot. "Rachel was my best friend," he starts. Having thought so hard about this all night and having no one to talk to, it spills out effortlessly. "I treated her like shit when we broke up because I was... so scared of what it meant for me. I... I didn't want David to judge me for it, or think that I'd ever do that to him, that I'd ever..."

"Did you judge _him_?"

"What?"

"For Sebastien. For the birthday clown. For Lysa and Anderson and... Fuck, Patrick, for _me_?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not, how could you ask-"

"No, Patrick. How could _you_ not trust him the same way?"

He deflates. "You're right." He sighs. "I'm a coward. I was a coward when I left Rachel, and I was a coward when I hid it from David. Fuck, I'm still _in the closet_ because I'm... scared of things changing when they _fucking sucked_ before." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair."But he... he deserves better. He makes me want to be brave."

She's silent as she pulls up the handles on the suitcases, right where Ivan left them in the entry last night. Where he and David were _supposed_ to joke over who would carry them upstairs.

She stands there for a moment, gripping the handles, appearing at war with herself. "He's staying at my place," he hears her say, and his head whips toward her. "I'll make an excuse to be out this afternoon."

He nods vigorously at her. "Thank you, Stevie, really, I-"

"I'm doing this for him. Because I still think you could be good for him. Don't prove me wrong." She turns to leave, before tossing over her shoulder, "And Patrick? I suggest bringing a few apology gifts."

And then she's gone, and Patrick is alone. Again.

He stands in the entryway for several minutes, his phone unlocked in his hand, his text thread with David mocking him, his message from last night having been delivered when Patrick took his phone off airplane mode after the game.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Yesterday** 9:38 PM  
**David:** youre gonna have to make this up to me later though  
  


  


He barks out a bitter laugh. Yeah, that's an understatement.

He types out a text, rereads it, deletes it, types another, reads it back, edits it, and rereads it once more.

It doesn't seem like enough, but it's the best he's going to come up with right now.

His phone chimes a minute later, which he was not expecting this early. He thinks about David, unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling as the sun rises and his heart breaks.

He's never hated anyone as much as he hates himself right now.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 7:27 AM  
**Patrick:** Hi. I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but I owe you an explanation. It might not mean much right now, but I promise you, I was not engaged when we met, and I'm so sorry for keeping it from you. Let me know when you're ready to talk and I will tell you everything. I'm still in this with you, David. A hundred percent.  
  
**David:** you dont have to explain yourself.  
  


  


The period on the end of that sentence was ominous. David never uses punctuation unless it's a stylistic choice.

This is a stylistic choice. Patrick can _hear_ David's clipped voice saying that sentence. The idea that he knows him so well bolsters him. He _loves_ him. So fucking much. He has to try, he has to do this.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** I think I do.  
  
**David:** no i know you do, thats just what youre supposed to say.  
  


  


He watches as the dots grey appear, indicating that David is typing. He can _feel_ David struggling with this, so he just watches the bubble disappear, then reappear, over and over until his next message comes through.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**David:** come by stevies this afternoon. she'll be out.  
  
**David:** bring your best fucking explanation, patrick.  
  
**Patrick:** I'll be there.  
  


  


He stares at the message for ten minutes before realizing David won't respond.

\---

Patrick swallows around the lump in his throat.

 _You can't lose him, you can't lose him, you can't lose him_ , his mind chants at him, as it has been for hours.

He knocks, and a moment later, the door swings open.

David looks as wrecked as Patrick feels, his eyes are puffy and a little red-rimmed, his lips are dry, his curls knotted and unruly, his stubble a little bit longer than normal. But he's still so fucking beautiful that it hurts to look at him.

He steps aside to let Patrick in, but says nothing.

"I um, I brought you lunch," he says, lifting the to-go bag. "I figured Stevie didn't have much in the way of groceries." The joke falls flat.

His heart isn't in it.

His heart is across the apartment, in David's elegant, gentle hands, willing to be crushed, if that's what he chooses to do with it. His heart is David's, even if he breaks it.

"Thank you." David's voice is scratchy. Patrick can tell he's been crying. It makes him hate himself even more.

"How are you?"

"You know how I am, Patrick. So can we just skip past the small talk and get straight to the part where you explain to me why some beautiful redhead shows up four months into our ' _exclusive_ ' relationship and claims to be engaged to you?"

Patrick nods, taking a deep breath. "We _were_ engaged. Last year. We... we got together when we were in high school and we've been on-and-off ever since... And we always kinda just fell back into it." _You can't lose him, you can't lose him, you can't lose him._ He swallows past the rising panic in his throat. He has to keep it together. "I, uh. I broke things off with her in November. Told her it wasn't going to work anymore and I... I moved out and bought the condo and I stopped answering her texts." _You can't lose him, you can't lose him, you can't lose him._ "She um, she saw the... the photos, of me with Alexis and she thought that I just, I dunno, got a big head and decided she wasn't worth my time anymore. She just wanted an explanation, closure."

"And what did you tell her?"

"The truth."

"Which is?"

He leans more heavily on Stevie's kitchen counter. "That I was a coward. That I left her without telling her why because I was so fucking scared of what that would mean for me, to say out loud that I couldn't be with her because I'm gay. So I just... _ghosted_ her. I told her that I met you. That... that we're together."

"Well, that's generous." It stings. He has to fight down a sob at the thought.

"David, I'm so sorry for keeping this from you, I just couldn't... then she started texting me over the last few months, expecting us to get back together and-"

"Whoa. The last few _months_? And you didn't think to tell me about this?"

"I know, I..."

"I trusted you."

"I know."

"You _told me_ that I could trust you! When I was perfectly fine _not_ trusting you! Not trusting people is what I _do_ , it's what I'm _good at_! But the next thing I know, there's this _guy_ who is sending truckloads of roses and giant cookies, standing in front of me, and...!" He runs a hand over his face. "How hard did you try to keep her from me? How many stories did you... _revise_ as you told them to me? Was she the girl you lost your virginity to? Was _she_ your 'roommate' during your rookie year who never unloaded the dishwasher?"

"David-"

"You _lied_ to me, Patrick. For months. I opened up to you, I told you... I told you things I've never told anyone. And you... You wouldn't even..."

He hangs his head.

"I know, David, and I'm so sorry, I just... I didn't want it to affect what we have," He hears his voice tremble, and tries to choke it down. "I didn't want you to think I wasn't serious about us, or that I'd ever do anything like that to you." His voice is rising and he's shaking. He takes a deep breath. "But I promise that you have _nothing_ to worry about. Because no matter how hard I tried with her, it just never felt right. And up until recently, I didn't understand why. David, I've spent most of my life not knowing what right was supposed to feel like. And then I met you, and everything changed. _You_ make me feel right, David."

"That is... one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard anyone say, um..."

"It's the truth."

"I know. It's just that _my_ truth? Is that I am... damaged goods. And this has really messed things up for me, and I think I need a little time with it."

"Okay," he agrees, his voice breaking.

He stands awkwardly in Stevie's kitchen for a moment before he pushes off the counter and heads for the door.

David doesn't stop him.

\---

**iMessage:** Stevie  
  
**Today** 8:17 PM  
**Stevie:** bringing him lunch isn't what i meant by gifts.  
  
**Today** 9:23 PM  
**Stevie:** also you're playing like shit tonight. good.  
  


  


Patrick stares at the message on his way home. It thrills him a little that she might be watching the game — that means David might be watching with her.

And she's right.

He needs to show David that he's not giving this up without a fight.

That he's not giving _him_ up without a fight.

He fires off an email to his go-to florist for Mother's Days and birthdays.

Then he pulls up the website for David's favorite chocolatier across town and shoots them an email, too. They don't deliver, but he offers to pay extra. And if he uses his team email address and adds his full name on the bottom so hopefully his status pushes it through, so be it.

He's browsing for something expensive and beautiful (maybe this bracelet that matches the necklace he sometimes wears?) when Ivan pipes up. "David ask for cinnamon roll yesterday," he says, gesturing to the box on the passenger seat.

God, just his name is a punch to the gut.

It's a good idea though, so he opens a new tab to find a local French patisserie that could deliver.

"We, um. We had a fight."

"So you bring home cinnamon roll, he forgive you," Ivan says with a shrug.

He shakes his head. "It's not that kind of fight."

Ivan is silent for a moment, but Patrick hears him thinking. "Pizza, then?"

Patrick laughs. It breaks his heart a little that Ivan wouldn't even consider that the fight was bigger than something bringing home food would fix.

"He, um. He isn't at home. He's staying with a friend."

"What happened?"

"I fucked up," he tells him, voice cracking.

He shakes his head. "You care for each other. What is problem?"

"I never told him about Rachel." He clears his throat. "And she, um. She showed up."

Ivan shakes his head. "You must be honest."

"I know."

"You love David?"

Patrick lets out a humorless laugh. Mrs. Rose, Rachel, Stevie, now Ivan?

"I wish everyone would stop asking me that when I haven't even gotten the chance to tell _him_ yet."

"So you fight. He will forgive you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You fight, then you never lie again." He glances over his shoulder before merging onto the exit ramp. "Let me know when he is back. I will bring cinnamon roll then."

Ivan's certainty fortifies him.

He orders the bracelet, and when he gets home, he searches for the perfect song.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 1:34 PM  
**David:** thank you for the flowers, theyre beautiful.  
  
**Patrick:** You're welcome.  
  


  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 8:15 PM  
**David:** i can't believe Chocolat delivers.  
  
**Today** 9:46 PM  
**Patrick:** They don't.  
  
**David:** thank you.  
  
**Patrick:** You're welcome.  
  


  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 11:32 PM  
**David:** the song was beautiful.  
  
**David:** so is the bracelet, thank you.  
  
**Patrick:** You're welcome.  
  


  


\---

He corners Ted outside the locker room on the fourth day of their... time apart. He refuses to call it a break-up. Or even a break. He definitely won't call it a separation. It's time apart, just like every other week they've spent apart over the last four months. Except that this week, he really hurt David because he's an idiot and David isn't sending the "Good morning, I miss you x" texts that Patrick has gotten used to.

"Ted, hey."

"Hi, man." He seems guilty. Like he's going to be caught talking to Patrick. His teammate.

Patrick gets it. If Ted did this to Alexis, he'd feel the same loyalty to the Rose family.

"Look, I understand if you can't tell me but... Have you spoken to Alexis?"

"Um," he glances around, as if his girlfriend is going to pop around a corner and see them. "Yeah, a little bit. She's mostly been at Stevie's, um..."

Patrick nods. "How, um. How is he? Has she...?"

"I don't know if I can..."

"Yeah, yeah, no worries, I... I get that."

Ted looks at him, his kind face full of so much pity that Patrick gets a sudden urge to hit him. _Don't pity me_ , his mind screams. _It's not fucking over yet, I haven't lost him yet_.

Ted sighs. "Look, what I will say is that he... he wouldn't be so upset if you didn't mean something to him."

Patrick swallows, all the anger suddenly replaced by deep remorse and sorrow. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks, man."

Ted claps him on the shoulder once before moving past him toward the locker room.

Patrick presses himself against the wall and tries to breathe, digging deep for the last bit of hope he can find to get him through the rest of the day.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:23 AM  
**David:** stevie is taking me to the spa in elm grove today  
  
**Patrick:** Okay. I hope you have a good day with her.  
  
**Today** 7:34 PM  
**David:** thank you for the wine  
  
**Patrick:** You're welcome.  
  
**Today** 9:53 PM  
**Patrick:** I hope you had a relaxing spa day with Stevie.  
  


  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:09 AM  
**David:** you didnt even send enough pastries to get me through a full day  
  
**Patrick:** They were supposed to send three boxes. I'll call them.  
  
**David:** no please dont! they sent three boxes  
  
**David:** i was trying to make a joke  
  
**David:** though they did only last through breakfast  
  
**Patrick:** I'll send more tomorrow.  
  


  


\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 10:14 AM  
**David:** this is too many pastries patrick!  
  
**Patrick:** Hope it's enough for a full day.  
  
**David:** thank you  
  
**Patrick:** You're welcome.  
  
**David:** good luck at your game today  
  
**Patrick:** Thank you.  
  
**Today** 3:05 PM  
**David:** the song was beautiful  
  
**Patrick:** Thank you, David.  
  


  


**iMessage:** Stevie  
  
**Today** 4:36 PM  
**Stevie:** i realize you picked up some of davids dramatics, but you have to stop posting dramatic breakup songs. the internet is talking.  
  
**Stevie:** also you aren't broken up.  
  
**Stevie:** you sing the hell out of a taylor swift song, though.  
  
**Stevie:** but i didn't say that because i'm firmly on david's side here.  
  
**Patrick:** Noted. Thanks, Stevie.  
  


  


**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 7:35 PM  
**David:** thank you for the pizza.  
  
**Patrick:** You're welcome.  
  


  


**iMessage:** Stevie  
  
**Today** 7:38 PM  
**Stevie:** the fucking m&m "i'm sorry" pizza from the princess diaries?  
  
**Stevie:** this is a new low, even for you.  
  


  


\---

Patrick is fiddling with his guitar, his heart not really in it when the doorbell rings.

"Hi," David whispers when he opens the door. "Can I come in?"

Patrick just nods silently and steps aside.

David steps into the entry and fiddles with his rings. Patrick has a sudden vivid, physical memory of David's hand gripping his and, _god,_ he hopes he can feel those rings between his fingers again. "Um, I..." David sighs. "I have no idea how to do this."

Patrick waits. He can be patient. He can give David the time he needs.

God, just please don't let David be breaking up with him.

"You leave tomorrow," David starts.

"Yeah."

"We haven't planned where we'll meet next." He whispers with a tremor, but says it in future tense and Patrick feels himself light up inside.

"We have not, no."

David looks down at his hands and takes a deep breath. "You're leaving tomorrow, and we haven't planned where we're meeting next," he repeats louder, his voice cracking slightly. He takes another deep breath. "We haven't planned when we'll see each other next and I'm so fucking terrified that if I let you leave here tomorrow without making up, that we'll never figure out how to get back together and we'll break up for good and I don't want that, I don't want this to be _it_." It comes out in a rush, like it's all one word.

He's gobsmacked. Why is _David_ sad about this? Patrick is the screwup here. But he can't think of what to say through the sheer relief coursing through him. "I didn't realize we were broken up for now," is what comes out.

"Patrick!" He chides, exasperated.

"I'm sorry! I don't know what you want me to say! I thought I was giving you _space_ , I didn't think we were broken up!"

"That isn't the point!" David says, loudly.

"What _is_ the point then?" Patrick asks, his voice rising.

"The point is that I don't want to not be with you anymore!"

"So then let's _not_ not be together!" They're both being a little louder than strictly necessary considering they're only a few feet apart, but emotions are running high. Still, they're smiling, so Patrick knows they aren't really fighting.

"Well, okay then!"

They stand awkwardly for a moment, on opposite sides of the entry, until David moves and wraps his arms around him, tucking his face into Patrick's neck as his arms finally, _finally_ wrap around David's waist again, holding him against him, the relief so palpable, Patrick feels like if he opened his eyes, he would see it there, tangible and real, hanging over them.

He feels like he can breathe for the first time in days.

"You know I'd never let that happen, right?" Patrick breathes.

"What?"

"Us breaking up for good, just because I'm on the road. You know that, right? That I'd keep fighting for you?"

David let out a soft, shaky exhale against his neck, and he nods slightly. "Yeah, I know. That's... that's why." It's not a full sentence, but Patrick gets it. "Thank you," David whispers.

Patrick just holds him tighter.

"So, we're back?" David asks, quietly.

"Yeah, babe, we're back." There's no irony in the pet name this time.

He feels David smile before he pulls back to look at him, his hands staying clasped behind his neck. "Oh thank god, I was ready to get back together _days_ ago."

"What?!" He asks, shocked. "Then why didn't we?"

David's arms detach from him, gesturing vaguely around him as he backpedals. "I just... I've never been in this situation before! Where someone has fought for me, who has... tried to _woo_ me back... by being so nice to me... and generous."

"I'm sorry, were you holding back on talking to me because you were getting _gifts_?!"

"I was very upset and confused!" David tells him with a small, relieved smile. "So upset that I barely finished the pastries."

"David this wasn't meant to to be some... _advent calendar_ of apologies, it was like an olive branch to get you to talk to me!"

"I just didn't know how many olive branches you were planning on extending..."

"Ideally, one!"

"Okay! Well, now I know!" They're speaking a little louder than necessary again, the relief pumping adrenaline through their veins.

"Yeah, and now _I_ know that while I was torturing myself, you were hanging out at Stevie's just opening gifts... I see you like the bracelet," he tells him, touching David's wrist lightly.

It shouldn't send sparks curling up his arm, not after months of touching him at every opportunity, but it does.

"I love the bracelet, thank you," David says coyly.

Patrick hangs his head to hide his smile. David is _ridiculous_ and he _loves_ him so goddamn much.

"You know what, I feel like maybe now _I_ deserve an olive branch or two?"

"Okay, I understand that... Um, I could..."

"Okay, David, here's what we're gonna do," He says, lifting his hands to hold the sides of David's face firmly. "We're gonna go upstairs and _officially_ make up, because we don't have a lot of time left and I had _plans_ for this week." He sees David's eyes darken and his lips curve up in that smile he gets when he's turned on. He knows if he were to press against him now that David would be hard, and that spurs him on. "Then, I'm gonna leave for my game. And you're gonna sit here and think about what you've done, and how you'll make it up to me when I get home."

David is nodding.

Patrick pulls him in for a filthy kiss, and presses his hips to his and _yep_ , David is just as affected by this as he is.

So Patrick pulls him upstairs, shedding their clothes as they go. David throws his leather sweater over the banister carelessly, letting it land in a heap on the floor below.

Patrick considers it the first olive branch.

The second is when David crawls between his legs and takes him apart until he's sobbing, and it feels so good, so _right_ , to have him back and to be able to cry like this and be held by him, that relieved tears roll down his face long after he comes, David's arms tight around him, his lips pressing kisses into his hair while his own tears land on Patrick's collarbone.

They lay pressed together for hours, talking. Patrick tells him the whole story. He tells him about meeting Rachel in grade 7. How they went to their semi-formal in grade 11 in a group but kissed during the last slow dance and became boyfriend and girlfriend that summer. He tells him how they broke up on their way to prom, but got back together in the limo after, losing their virginities to each other in a hotel room that night ("You really hit every cliche in one night, huh?" "I was trying to fill up my 'high school stereotype' bingo card before graduation."). He tells David about breaking up with Rachel during his first semester of university, and how he was a little obsessed with his roommates friend, Mark, who always seemed to hang around their dorm. He tells him how he started dating a girl named Jenn right after winter break, and how they stayed together until finals. How her apartment off-campus helped him successfully avoid his dorm room (and by extension, Mark) until the end of the semester. He tells David how he purposefully stopped hanging out with his roommate, effectively ending their friendship and eliminating any chance of rooming together the next year, just so he didn't have to see Mark again. He tells him about the one gratifying sexual experience he had during his final year, when he was casually hooking up with a girl named Alex when she said she wanted to try pegging.

"And you liked it?"

Patrick raises an eyebrow at him. "I think you know damn well that I did."

David smirks. "So, what's the craziest thing you and Alex did?"

He looks down at their hands, intertwined on his belly, and plays with one of David's rings. "She wanted to have a threesome with another guy but I said no."

"Why?"

"I was scared I'd like it, I think." David just squeezes his hand to continue. "We did have a threesome with another girl, though."

"Oh?" He sounds impressed.

"I, uh. I stopped being... _able to participate_ after a few minutes and told them to keep going." He glances at David, his face soft and understanding. "It was better for me to watch them enjoying it as much as they did."

David just nods.

"Alex is a lesbian, now, I think. Or, she's _out_ as a lesbian now. She lives in New York with her partner, actually."

David smiles. "You should look her up. We can get dinner with them sometime."

He nods. "Yeah, maybe."

He tells David about getting back together with Rachel when he joined the Blue Jays six years ago, and about breaking up four times since. He tells him how the last time they got back together, his apology gift was a diamond ring that made him sick to his stomach to hand over.

His voice cracks when he tells David about telling her he didn't want to marry her, about the yelling and the crying, about leaving her without an explanation. He tells him all the horrible things he said to her to get her to let him go, because he knew if she came back he would fall back into it.

He tells him about moving on, about buying the first condo he found on Zillow just to have a clean break, to avoid temptation to get back together just because it was comfortable. About getting a new keyboard as soon as he moved in because there wasn't room for one in his and Rachel's first apartment and he never got around to getting one after they bought their house. About booking his trip to London and lying to his parents about his plans so they wouldn't worry about him traveling alone.

He explains that Rachel saw the photos of him with Alexis and was heartbroken thinking that he broke up with her because she wasn't beautiful or famous enough for him anymore. She wanted closure, she wanted the answers he couldn't give her nine months ago when he walked out of their house and stopped answering her calls. He tells him about coming out to her, how she was surprised but accepting.

He tells him about all the reasons he never spoke about her before — his fear that David would think he would do the same thing to him, his shame and his guilt, his worry that David wouldn't think of him the same way, his anger at himself, his cowardice.

David holds him the entire time. He squeezes his hand when Patrick needs courage, he kisses his hair when Patrick needs affection, he strokes a his fingers down Patrick's spine when he needs comfort.

He gives Patrick everything he needs.

Patrick considers it his third olive branch.

\---

They shower together, unwilling to be separate just yet, and Patrick leaves for the game, already hating the space between him and David, but he plays better than he has in a week.

He's next at bat when he sees David on the jumbotron, trying to look incognito in his toque and sunglasses, but sitting with Alexis (who is wearing a bedazzled custom jersey with "ALEXIS" across her shoulders), who demands attention.

He shakes his head lightly. God, the gossip mill is never gonna leave him alone now.

But he's happy.

Then he hits a 2-run homer, and it's his 80th RBI of the season, and he's _really_ fucking happy.

They lose the game, but he's still happy.

Because David showed.

He considers it his fourth olive branch. Even if he did ignore Patrick's gentle demand that he stay home and think about what he did.

\---

They're in the car, holding hands while David scarfs down a _third_ cinnamon roll, Ivan chatting idly about some show he and David both watch.

As they pull up to the condo, Patrick spots Stevie's car in his driveway.

"Stevie's here?"

"Ugh, she was _supposed_ to be gone by now!"

"What? Why?"

David just smirks and gestures to the door handle. "After you, Mr. Brewer."

Stevie is stepping out just as they approach the steps.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.

"Please don't make me say it out loud."

David rolls his eyes at her and explains, "I couldn't be in two places at once."

Stevie just scrunches her nose in disgust and hands Patrick his spare key, saying to David, "That was horrifying and disgusting and you better not _ever_ ask me to do anything like that ever again."

Patrick is terrified of what lays behind the door, but David is wearing a saccharine smile as he pulls Stevie in for a hug. "Thank you, Stevie, you are the best best friend I could ever ask for and I adore you with ever fiber of my being."

She pushes him off. "Get _off_ , David."

"I mean, that's the ultimate goal, yeah."

Her hands fly up to her ears. "Okay! David, always a pleasure, please stay on your side of the border from now on."

He laughs, and her small smile betrays her sincerity.

"Good to see you, Patrick," she tells him earnestly.

"You too, Stevie." _Thank you for helping me, thank you for taking care of him, I promise I've got it from here_ , he hopes it conveys.

She strides over to her car and David gestures to the front door. "Shall we?"

"I don't know, is the place just littered with condoms and lube? Did she put restraints on the bed and a mirror on the ceiling?"

David smirks. "Oh, no. It's so much worse," he says as Patrick steps into his condo. "It's _romantic._ "

Patrick takes it all in, noticing the dimmed lights, with candles lit on every surface. His favorite Chinese takeout plated beautifully, a bottle of expensive wine on the center of the table.

" _Wooow_ ," Patrick breathes. "Look at this."

"Oh, that isn't even the half of it," he says, pulling a chair to the center of the room. "Have a seat."

"What is this?"

"Consider this my olive branch."

David steps over to his speaker and presses a few buttons before — oh god.

" _I call you, when I need you, and my heart's on fire_ ," David lip syncs like his life depends on it.

And _fuck_. Patrick is so _fucking_ in love with him. He didn't know it was _possible_ to feel this much for someone.

And for the first time in four months ( _and eight days_ , his mind supplies), he thinks David might just love him back.

David, who is guarded and unsure and keeps his emotions locked away is finally, _finally_ telling Patrick that he feels the same way.

Last month, Patrick sang this song to him with everything he had because David loves it and Patrick loves him and it perfectly describes how he feels about him.

And now, David is standing in front of him, telling him that he's stuck on his heart, too.

" _Each time you leave me I start losing control, you're walking away with my heart and my soul_ ," David mouths, and he knows it's true. It's the same for him.

Every flight, every time zone and state line between them, it doesn't matter.

They're _in this_.

He wants this forever.

Patrick thinks he's gonna spend the rest of his life in love with David Rose.

And that's perfectly fine with him.

\---

That night, David is running his fingers through Patrick's hair when he asks into the dark room, "Are there any other secrets?"

 _Yes, I am in love with you_ , he thinks.

"No," he tells him.

"Okay." He idly scratches at his scalp, and Patrick feels him swallow. "And did you only lie about-"

"Just about her. Everything else is true." He places a gentle kiss to David's chest, right above his heart. "Everything."

"Okay." He swallows again, and Patrick hears him take a shaky breath in. "Do you... um. Do you promise that's it? Because Patrick, I can't do this again, I can't-"

"I promise." He says it firmly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. He drops another kiss to David's chest before looking up at him, and lifting a hand to his jaw, stroking along it gently. "I promise, David, I'm all in this. No more secrets."

David nods, and pulls him in for a kiss. "I trust you," he whispers.

 _I love you_ , Patrick thinks, kissing him deeply in return.

They don't talk much more after that.

\---

They ride to the airport together and scroll though Patrick's schedule while David savors one last cinnamon roll, making a plan for the rest of the season, deciding in advance which cities they'll meet in and when David will come to Toronto. They're playing the Mets next month and Patrick has already told their manager he doesn't need a hotel in New York.

When they pull up to the departures level, Patrick presses a set of keys to the condo into David's hand, whispering, "So that you feel comfortable to come visit any time." He smiles. "So that you know I want you here, all the time."

David just nods and gives him a deep kiss goodbye before stepping out and disappearing through the doors, Blue Jays mug in hand.

Ivan hops back in and drives them around once, so they aren't seen arriving together.

"Told you it work out."

He smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll work out."

His phone chimes as they reenter traffic.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 11:19 AM  
**David:** miss you already. cant wait for seattle! xx  
  
**Patrick:** Miss you too, babe. :)  
  


  


He lets the grin split his face wide open. He is somehow even more in love with this open, vulnerable David than he was with the scared, closed-off David he groveled to last week.

He thinks he'll fall more in love with him every day for the rest of his life.

He's excited about it.

It hits him how different this is, that the thought of "the rest of his life" doesn't make him want to run away anymore. Not with David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -We Belong Together by Mariah Carey (The first song Patrick uploads, the day David gets the bracelet)  
> -A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure by Taylor Swift (The second song Patrick uploads, because I couldn't choose and there are no lyrics included in this fic, is either Back To December, Afterglow or This is Me Trying. Or all three and David just doesn't text him about the other two, it's up to you! The Mariah Carey song isn't even directly featured so it's really your pick.)  
> -The Best by Tina Turner (David's olive branch, of course)
> 
> All are in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!
> 
> (also, if you see me using music from 2019-2020 even though this fic takes place in 2018, you should know that i am aware and did it anyway)


	9. you put me on and said i was your favorite (david)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David makes sure Patrick knows they're okay. The Brewers pay their son a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, just absolutely blown away by the response to this. Thank you so much to everyone reading this, I genuinely can't get over it.
> 
> Also, wanted to note - I will be on a 10 day camping trip with limited internet starting this weekend, so there may be a lull between chapters, but I promise I will get the rest up ASAP.
> 
> The [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated for this chapter.
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "cardigan" by taylor swift

They spend three days in Seattle, having sex (and eating room service) in a king size bed in a hotel room that overlooks the sound and the mountains beyond and making up for time lost in Toronto, and David never wants to leave.

Okay, so Seattle is a little too... _outdoorsy_ for him, but this place _feels_ like Patrick, and Patrick feels like home, so he kind of loves it.

It's easy to imagine an alternate reality, where Patrick is traded to the Mariners and David would move here with him. They could get a house in one of the cuter neighborhoods, maybe overlooking Lake Washington, and they could spend their days off taking in the music scene and the art scene, having picnics in the sculpture gardens, and visiting the Conservatory during cherry blossom season.

He could open a gallery, or maybe a cute shop showcasing handmade goods and décor from local artisans in the surrounding region. He would let Patrick plan an open mic night, as long as he sings to David. He could hire Alexis to do the PR and he could maybe even partner with his dad and Stevie to supply candles and flowers and toiletries from his vendors to their motels in the area. Stevie could even stay with them in their cute cottage (because yeah, it's a cottage now, this is _his_ fantasy, he makes the rules here) overlooking the lake when she does her district visits here, and Alexis and Ted could stay when the Blue Jays are in town.

Plus, the Mariners' uniforms are white, blue, and grey, so he _knows_ Patrick would look just as hot as he does in his Blue Jays jersey.

He pictures him in the Mariners teal — it would be a great color on him, and now David has to go shopping for a green button up for him.

(He pictures _himself_ at T-Mobile Park, in a Mariners jersey, "BREWER" across his shoulders and it makes him _ache_.)

He might even let Patrick take him on a very easy hike, as long as he wears those cute mountaineering pants with all the pockets that make him look like the highly capable wet dream that he is. And as long as there was a picnic involved at the end.

And yeah, it's a nice dream, him and Patrick building a life that's made from the best of both of them.

But he knows, logically, that in order to have that, Patrick would have to be out.

And he shouldn't _have to_. If Patrick doesn't want to shoulder the responsibility of being The Gay Baseball Player (even though his shoulders would carry that title so _nicely_ ), he shouldn't have to. It's not his responsibility to educate the world just by existing, to be a tokenized gay man in a heterosexual-dominated industry, toted out every time the League wants to prove its commitment to inclusivity, as if they knew he was gay when he made a name for himself. Fuck, as if _he_ knew he was gay when he made a name for himself.

Still, while Patrick is at the gym, David spends his days meandering the city, imagining a world where they walk Pike Place hand in hand, and buy their weekly bouquet of tulips for their (tasteful, midcentury — once again, this is David's fantasy, he will not settle for anything less) dining table. Where they can pop into coffee shops for quick lunch dates before Patrick goes to the stadium and David goes back to the store-and-slash-or-gallery. Where they watch the sunset on the beach and feed each other bites of ice cream.

He dreams of a world where they aren't David Rose, International Fashion Icon/Reality TV Personality/Socialite and Patrick Brewer, MLB All-Star/World Series Champion/Viral Social Media Star and they can just _be._

It's easy to dream here, so far from the realities of their lives, the vast distance between him and their separate homes in separate cities on the other side of the continent blurring the sharp lines of the "whys" and the "hows."

 _Maybe one day_ , he thinks. If Patrick were ready, David would want this with him. But only if he's ready.

He passes a beautiful, empty storefront and sighs, heading back to the hotel to watch Patrick's game, because he can't attend all of them without suspicion.

And that night, he sits on the hotel bed and idly sketches out his store-and-slash-or-gallery idea while Patrick kicks Seattle's ass and daydreams about waking up every day with him, about building a life with him, and tries very hard not to mourn for something he's never known.

After, he presses Patrick into the mattress a little too gently than a strictly celebratory fuck would call for, and if he pictures them in their cute, imaginary cottage instead of a generic Westin hotel room, well, no one needs to know about it.

\---

He leaves Seattle before Patrick, with a kiss and the knowledge of when they'll see each other next (next weekend, in New York, when Patrick plays the Mets, his flight information already added to their newly-shared Google calendars).

Patrick has posted a new video by the time he lands. David recognizes his shirt as the one he wore to bed last night, the background clearly the hotel room they woke up in this morning.

 **patrickbrewer:** It was rainy in Seattle.

He presses play and rolls his eyes at his boyfriend, who croons, " _Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we'll still have each other. You can stand under my umbrella..._ "

**Messages with** patrickbrewer  
  
**thedavidrose:** youre so corny  
  


Still, he likes the video because Patrick looks adorably soft in his sleep shirt and the sentiment is sweet.

\---

The ESPY nominations come through when Patrick is en route to New York, and David is pacing his apartment, phone in hand, excitedly waiting for it to ring.

"Patrick!" David practically yells, the moment it does.

"Hi, babe," Patrick responds, smugly.

"Male Athlete of the Fucking Year!"

His boyfriend laughs. "Well, one of several."

"This is amazing, Patrick, I'm so proud of you," he tells him, warmly. "Is that weird? I mean, I didn't know you last season-"

"It's not weird. I'd be proud of you."

"Ah, yes, well. When the Teen Choice Awards nominees are announced and I'm up for Reality TV Sidekick again, I'm sure you'd be equally thrilled about my accomplishments."

Patrick laughs. "Honestly, I would be."

David thinks that might actually be true. It makes him tuck an embarrassed smile into the side of his face, even though no one is there to see it. "How much longer do I have to wait before I can celebrate you?" David asks.

"I'm in a car now, I should be there in... 45 minutes? An hour? Depends on traffic."

"Ugh, fine."

Patrick laughs. "Can't wait to see you either. How was your morning?"

David launches into a story about his coffee meeting with a potential artist and how their whole schtick is negative space (though he did spend most of it surreptitiously refreshing the ESPY nomination announcement).

He knows Patrick is actually listening though, because he's asking engaging questions about their art, and it makes his heart flutter a bit.

How has he gone 30-[redacted] years of his life without him? Who did he used to talk to? Stevie lets him mindlessly rant and will offer advice when prompted, and his sister will occasionally be willing to sit with him while he talks through something, though she usually flips through a magazine or scrolls Instagram while he's speaking. But Patrick? Patrick listens, intently, and he cares.

David doesn't think he's ever had someone so genuinely interested in the minutiae of his life, who wants to share his life with him. He loves it. He loves _him._

It's refreshing to think about now that they're in a good place again, rather than how he felt last month, realizing he loved him because his heart was breaking. It's nice to think about loving him and feeling hope instead of despair.

And he feels so much fucking hope. And for the first time in his life, it doesn't scare him.

He believes that what Patrick told him in Toronto is true. He has nothing to worry about.

Removing that weight from his shoulders is freeing.

So he chats dramatically about work until Patrick hangs up so he can grab his bags and pay his fare. And when David hears Patrick's key in the lock, he greets him by dropping to his knees to celebrate.

\---

It's easier to be seen together in New York.

There's more paparazzi, but David has connections for private dining, and it makes sense for Patrick to hang out with his " _friends"_ while he's here. Which is why David invites Ted along one night when they go to a quiet pub in Hell's Kitchen where no one gives a fuck who they are.

And Ted somehow gets sloshed and tells David no less than ten times how lucky he is that he's known Alexis for her entire life. David grimaces, not touching that incestuous implication with a ten foot pole. So David lets him crash in his guest room, and he doesn't even touch Patrick that night because he doesn't want to make him uncomfortable with his best friend in the next room — no matter how pouty Patrick gets about it.

The photos of David holding up a drunk Ted as they get into a cab are all over Twitter though, so he sends them to Alexis as payback for Jerseygate.

\---

Patrick's last day in the city happens to fall over their five month anniversary and David has a plan.

Patrick is still walking on eggshells and groveling a bit, checking in a little more, sending the occasional "just thinking of you" flowers and while it's all lovely, David misses the casual ease of their relationship. He wants to reassure him that they're _fine_. That he can be normal. That David _wants_ him to be normal.

Patrick lied to him, but David sat with it for a few days, and he understands why. And Patrick has more than made up for that witholding of information by telling David _literally_ everything. And they're good — they're better than good, they're great. They made it through this big thing and David feels more secure in their relationship than ever. They're strong now, _really_ committed to growing together.

And he wants Patrick to know that he doesn't take it for granted, that he's happy.

The look on Patrick's face when he walks in after his game and sees David wearing the white Blue Jays jersey that Patrick bought for him (because of _course_ he followed through when he said he would buy his _boyfriend_ a jersey after David accidentally defined their relationship for the first time) with "BREWER" across his shoulders and a navy blue jockstrap and nothing else, confirms he chose his gift well.

The look on Patrick's face when he hands him the grey Brentwood Park JCC Sliders jersey he had made, with "ROSE" across the back over the number "4" is somehow even more satisfying.

"Is this..."

"A Patrick-sized recreation of my Little League uniform? Yes, yes it is."

"Wow," Patrick whispers, his eyes sparkling and smile wide.

"I figured if I was going to wear your jersey, you should wear mine." Patrick is grinning at him and David feels his heart skip a beat. "Happy five month anniversary, Patrick."

His boyfriend's eyes go soft before he pulls him in for a soft kiss that makes the corners of David's eyes prickle.

"There's something else," he says against Patrick's lips. "I want you to fuck me."

Patrick pulls back, his hand still resting at the base of David's neck. "David, are you...?"

"I've never been more sure about anything. I trust you, Patrick."

It sounds a lot like _I love you_. He supposes it is.

Patrick leans in and kisses him softly, mouth open and relaxed against his, and nudges him deeper into the apartment toward the bedroom.

David drops onto the bed and watches as Patrick pulls off his teeshirt and pushes his sweatpants off, climbing over him in just his blue boxer briefs.

He kisses David again, before moving his lips to graze reverently over his jaw, then his neck, then his collarbone. He sits back and slowly unbuttons the jersey, dropping a kiss to each new patch of skin he uncovers until the jersey hangs open. David shifts to slide it off his arms, but Patrick places a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Will you leave it on?"

David just nods.

His boyfriend slides lower, ghosting a breath over the bulge of his cock where it's framed beautifully (if David says so himself, having purchased no less than nine jocks to find the perfect fit and the right shade of blue) by the elastic.

David doesn't like being penetrated by a partner, as a general rule. He doesn't like the lack of control and the bad memories attached to the act. He loves penetrating himself and he owns a truly world-class selection of toys to fuck himself with, but he doesn't have a single good memory of someone doing this to him. In the past, he's been under-prepped, he's had safewords ignored, he's woken up sore and burning, not knowing who had been inside him or if they used protection.

But as Patrick licks a wide stripe over him and stops to look up for his reaction, eyes soft and wide and _caring_ , he thinks that one look could unravel years of pain.

"Yes," he whispers, and that's all Patrick needs before he starts licking at his rim with abandon, fucking into him with his tongue before pressing his lips to him and sucking. His hand comes up to twist a nipple and David nearly comes on the spot, choking around Patrick's name.

"Fuck, David, you look so good like this," Patrick whispers when he takes a breath. "So perfect, you're so fucking perfect," he mutters before he's on him again, mouthing at him and _moaning_ like it's all he's ever wanted.

David has two functioning brain cells left and they're both screaming at him to give Patrick the lube, so he pushes himself slightly higher on the mattress to reach into his nightstand, and Patrick _whines_ when his ass is out of reach of his mouth and holy fucking shit, how had he gone so long not knowing what it was like to fuck and be fucked by Patrick Brewer?

He presses the lube into Patrick's hand, but he goes back to work with his mouth until David squeezes his eyes shut and starts begging him for more.

He feels Patrick push one finger into him and opens his eyes to see his boyfriend's face hovering near his, watching his every reaction intently, and he has no choice but to pull him in for a kiss. It's maybe too soft, too reverent for how much David needs him. He realizes this is quickly moving into "making love" territory and the thought should make him want to throw up but instead, he finds himself letting it, wanting it, even.

He breathes against Patrick's mouth when he adds a second finger.

"How are you doing?" Patrick whispers, checking in, and David feels the tears leak out before he can stop them.

"I'm so good, honey. So good."

Patrick leans down and presses a kiss to each eyelid. It makes David cry harder.

Could it always have been like this? If he'd given a second look to those kind-eyed boys in high school, or the sensitive musicians at university, or the nerdy finance interns nervously buying him a drink at a bar... could he have been doing this for _years_? Could it have been this good?

He doesn't know. He thinks it might just be Patrick.

"I'm going to add a third, let me know if it's too much?"

He nods. He couldn't speak even if he wanted to.

He feels himself stretch around Patrick's hand and it's so much, so much, so much. But it's nowhere near too much. It's nowhere near _enough_.

He doesn't think he'll ever have enough of Patrick.

Patrick's lips find that spot on his neck and under his ear, that spot that's just _his_ , his teeth nipping lightly at the skin and David feels so _cherished_ that he lets out a sob.

He stops moving. "Are you okay? Did I hurt-"

"Don't stop, Patrick, _please_ , don't stop."

"You're crying."

David just pulls his face in for a wet kiss.

"It's a good cry, Patrick, it's so... it's so good, _please_..."

Patrick picks the pace back up, his eyes never leaving David's face until he pulls his fingers out.

David's eyes catch his as he pulls he jockstrap off of him, as he lifts David's shoulders to push the jersey off, as he slides his own boxer briefs off and reaches for a condom.

"Wait."

Patrick does. He doesn't move, he just waits patiently for David and he knows, that this is it for him.

Patrick is the love of his life.

"Can we..." They got tested months ago, after Miami, when they realized future water-based sex endeavors would be easier without condoms. They both tested negative, and David wants the extra intimacy, to have nothing between them. He doesn't think he's ever _wanted_ to be vulnerable with someone before Patrick. "Can we go without?"

"David, are you... Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just you, Patrick? Please?"

He nods once and drops the condom back into the drawer, settles his knees between David's as he pours a generous amount of lube over them both, and pushes in, torturously slow.

David moans deeply and he hears Patrick curse, and he pulls his face to his and kisses him softly, slowly, searchingly.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , David thinks.

He hopes he's able to show it with his body, unable to say the words through the mangled mess of his past.

Patrick lifts a hand to cup David's face, his thumb gently tracing over one eyebrow before his palm settles gently along his jaw. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to David's lips, before dropping his hand, his fingertips tracing featherlight along his shoulder and his arm and his wrist before he nudges gently at his palm and interlaces their fingers, grounding him to this moment, holding him together, fixing what he can of the damage and stepping gently over what he can't.

Patrick moves slowly, his hips grinding softly against David's, his cock dragging deliciously against his prostate over and over and over, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

"How are you feeling?" Patrick asks.

"Perfect," David whispers shallowly. And it's true; Patrick is rewriting the story of David's life with each gentle press of his hips, and he feels _perfect._ And because he needs him to know, he tells him, "You feel so good. I'm so close, Patrick."

His knees are gently pushed up to his chest by the hand not gripped tight in his own, and he cries out as Patrick pumps into him steadily, his hand dropping from his thigh to jack him in time with his thrusts and then he's coming, and it feels like he'll never stop, and he feels Patrick stutter and groan and he kisses him as he comes inside of him and David doesn't think he's _ever_ felt so good.

Making love with Patrick Brewer is better than any pharmaceutical cocktail he could ever take — and he would know, he's taken them all.

Patrick cleans them off after, before wrapping them up in David's blankets and pressing kisses to his shoulders, his hands, his eyes, his nose, his chest, his lips.

"David..." he sighs into his hair. "I..."

"I know." he responds. "Me too."

It doesn't matter what Patrick was trying to say. David is right there with him for anything.

\---

Patrick lingers long enough in David's bed the next morning for them to have to share a shower, which is fine with David because he loves how a soaking wet Patrick looks on his knees against the Romanian marble of his shower.

They dry off and get ready at their respective sinks, because they each have a sink at each other's place now, and order bagels for breakfast.

It's a routine that David loves, even if it's not every day.

And then Patrick is off again, back to Toronto.

David maybe browses commercial real estate listings that afternoon. Just in case he wants to host his next show up north.

\---

**Incoming Call: Patrick**

It's a strange time of day for a phone call. Patrick is normally at the gym right now. It's probably a pocket dial, that perfect ass pressing buttons while at the squat rack.

He answers anyway.

"Patrick?"

"Hi," Patrick responds, his voice a little rough.

"Is everything okay?"

"My parents are here."

"What? Where? Toronto?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Patrick laughs humorlessly. "They wanted to see a game, supposedly. But I think they wanted to check in on me." He says, quietly. He pauses, and David says nothing as he waits for him to continue. "I want to tell them. But I... I think... Could you maybe..."

"I'm on the next flight."

Which is apparently leaving in three hours, so for the first time in his life, he just throws a random assortment of clothes and personal care in a bag and orders a car to the airport, thanking whatever deity above decided to bless him with TSA Pre-Check.

He's in Toronto by 8 o'clock and slips his key in Patrick's door by 9.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 9:04 PM  
**David:** im here  
  
**David:** at your place i mean  
  
**David:** let me know if i should be elsewhere and ill go to stevies until you need me  
  


  


He drops his bag and immediately reaches for the remote to catch the last few moments of the game.

BLUE JAYS: 1

DODGERS: 13

It's _brutal_.

"...And let me tell you, Brewer has been _way_ off his game tonight, he hasn't caught a single fly-"

David turns off the TV.

He taps out another text.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 9:08 PM  
**David:** i need you to know how brave you are for even wanting to tell them and how proud i am of you.  
  


  


There's more he wants to say, but this is enough for now, he hopes.

He brings his bag upstairs and drops it on the bench at the foot of Patrick's bed, not wanting to unpack just yet in case he needs to leave for Stevie's.

He looks around, irrationally irritated with his boyfriend for being so fucking neat all the time because there's nothing for him to clean or put away, so he sits on the bed and scrolls through his socials.

There's a small section of Twitter has latched on to Alexis and Ted, finally. He only sees it because he's tagged in some tweets insisting that Ted would never cheat on him with his sister. Some are calling Alexis a home wrecker and are convinced that she's going to make a move on Mutt next.

 _Poor Tennessee_ , David thinks. He wishes he could be included on the Blue Jays Wives/Girlfriends text chain that he knows exists. He wishes he could be there for Tennessee when she gets dragged into this and explain that the internet is a cesspool and should only be consumed for entertainment value.

He wouldn't tell her how he learned about Sebastien's Open Relationship policy because a group of guys were swapping stories in his mentions.

David and Alexis have been the target of internet trolls and gossip columnists and paparazzi since before puberty. They know how to handle it, how to laugh it off.

People like Ted and Mutt and Tennessee, and fuck, Patrick? They don't.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 9:42 PM  
**Patrick:** Thank you.  
  
**Patrick:** For saying that, and for coming.  
  
**Patrick:** Please tell me to leave the locker room and go out to meet them.  
  
**David:** leave the locker room and go see your parents  
  
**Patrick:** Thank you.  
  
**David:** anytime xx  
  
**Patrick:** ❤️  
  


  


David stares at that heart for an embarrassingly long time.

He can't believe Patrick's first documented emoji usage — he scrolled all the way back on his Instagram after the Rachel incident, wanting to pick at the scab even though he found nothing, and no, he didn't use a single emoji ever — was a heart. To _him_.

He locks the phone and starts pacing, not knowing where he should be when Patrick arrives, in case his parents are with him.

Oh my god, what if they're going out for dinner and he's just pacing for hours?

Worse, what if they're _staying_ here?

Is he going to meet them?

He glances down at his plane outfit. He's just been... pacing his boyfriends apartment in a leather jacket? Chic enough to be photographed in, but not what he wants to be wearing when he meets Patrick's parents.

He unzips his duffle and pulls out every item he packed, laying them all out on Patrick's bed and considering them closely.

Why the _fuck_ did he pack his Helmut Lang mohawk hoodie oh my _god_.

Oh, great, really glad he packed his fucking Rick Owens distressed denim _skirt_ for a maybe-meeting-his-boyfriend's-white-picket-fence-parents trip. Maybe he should just pair it with the _fucking mohawk hoodie_ and really just go for it, really give them the David Rose Tabloid Darling Special. _Idiot_ , he thinks.

He glances at the Amiri palm tree cardigan and decides it'll do, and starts digging through for-

"Aurgh!" He yells, his frustration finally reaching a breaking point. He didn't pack a white tee? The graphic tee he wore on the plane will _absolutely_ clash with this! (He's _already_ sacrificing by wearing his Rick Owens moto pants with it, even though the silhouette is all wrong, but he apparently didn't pack any other black pants and he was not about to wear his Neil Barrett bleached jeans with this, that would look ridiculous.)

David glances around for an answer and his eyes fall on Patrick's dresser.

He hesitates for a moment before pulling open the second drawer, which he knows holds Patrick's teeshirts and cringes.

This... heavyweight cotton is absolutely going to chafe.

He gingerly pulls one from the drawer and holds it in his hands for a moment. Is he really doing this? Is he... sharing clothes with a significant other now?

Is he going to wear his boyfriend's 5-for-$5 teeshirt under his $1100 cardigan?

Ugh. Of course he is. Because his only other options are going to scare off the Brewers, because David is over-the-top and not good enough for Patrick and he loves him so fucking much that he just wants them to accept his boyfriend and he is trying his best to make it seem like their son is of sound mind, that they should trust his ability to know what's best for himself.

So he pulls on the too-short teeshirt (which smells like Patrick's detergent and just reminds David of all the times he's helped his boyfriend change the sheets after sex so it's not the _worst_ thing to have to deal with) and pulls on his moto pants and the cardigan.

He folds his clothes and places them back in his bag, making a mental note to go shopping tomorrow since he cannot make a single outfit with what he's packed. It would be great if he could just leave some things here for the next time they decide on an impromptu visit, but he's getting ahead of himself, he's not _moving in_.

He hears Ivan pull up and the the front door open. He holds his breath.

"David?" He hears Patrick call, before he says something too lowly for him to make out.

"Up here," David croaks back, and a moment later, Patrick is in front of him, looking looser and happier than he's ever seen him.

Patrick throws his arms around him and pulls him in tight. "I told them," he mutters into his shoulder. "They want to meet you."

"What?!" He asks, pulling back. "They're _here?_ "

"Yeah, I thought we could order dinner, and they could get to know you..."

"Patrick, this is a personal thing for you and your family, I shouldn't be-"

Patrick kisses him, lightly. "David, you... Please come downstairs?"

"Okay," David whispers, because he's weak.

Patrick pulls away and looks at him for a moment, before asking, "Is that my shirt?"

"How the _fuck_ did you recognize _this_?"

He shrugs. "Doesn't look like something you'd own."

And, okay. David is _really_ in love with him. "I'm sorry, I'll wash it, I just didn't pack anything that made sense because I _thought_ it would just be us here, maybe some cuddling and a few too many glasses of wine but then I realized that maybe they were staying here and I just wanted to make a good impression in case I would be meeting them even though I really didn't expect to and-"

"David?"

"Yeah?"

"Wearing this shirt is very brave, and you are a very generous person. And I don't wanna cause you any more stress, but I love you."

David freezes. "So, you just said that to me for the first time, with your parents _downstairs_ , _knowing_ that it would cause me more stress."

"That's correct."

"Because you know that I've never said that to anyone else, aside from my family and one very drunk karaoke night with Stevie and one time at a-"

"At a Mariah Carey concert, I know." Patrick slides his arms out from around him and takes a step back, giving David the space he needs. Because Patrick is perfect. "I don't expect you to say it back to me right now, you can say it when you're ready," he tells him, like he _knows_ David loves him back. He would _kill_ for even an ounce of that confidence. "It just felt right to me in the moment. David, you flew here because I needed you, without me even having to ask, and put on a cheap cotton tee shirt to impress my parents. You... _you're_ my Mariah Carey."

David knows he's teasing but it still knocks the air from his lungs. He steps away from his boyfriend, giving them even more space, and tilting his head back. "That compliment could bring me to tears, but I'm not gonna let it."

Patrick just watches him, patient and sure and solid, his honey whiskey eyes sparkling and how did David ever think Patrick didn't love him back, when that's how he has always looked at him?

"So.. I..." he starts. _Say it_ , his mind yells at him. _Just say it, you coward._ He's been vulnerable and honest with Patrick for months, but this is too far. Apparently, he's still _just_ damaged enough to be unable to do it. He panics. "Would like to thank you for all of the wonderful things you just said."

"Okay," Patrick says. "Can we go downstairs now?"

"Yes, yeah, that's probably... a good idea."

"And David?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you for coming." He leans in to press a kiss to David's cheek.

Somehow _that_ is going to make him cry more than a beautiful confession of love from the man he's been in love with for months, so he just smiles and pushes past Patrick, down the stairs, and is immediately greeted by two very kind-faced humans who seem to have divided Patrick's beautiful features between them.

"Oh, you must be David," says the woman with his boyfriend's eyes.

"Ah, my reputation precedes me, yes." He feels Patrick step behind him and rest a hand on his lower back. He leans into it a little.

"It's so lovely to meet you," she says, pulling him into a hug.

"Oh! Um, it's lovely to meet you as well," he tells her, awkwardly patting her on the back.

She squeezes him one last time, just like Patrick does, before pulling away. "I'm Marcy, and this is my husband, Clint."

Clint offers a hand to David to shake, reminding David of meeting Patrick outside the gallery, his grip firm and warm. "It's good to meet you, son," Clint tells him kindly.

"Likewise."

It's awkward for a moment, before Patrick herds them all into the living room and pulls up his delivery app, asking what everyone would like.

"I'll get an order of mozzarella sticks too," he tells David. "You had a long day."

It makes him smile. He wishes he could've just _told him_ that he loves him, too.

Instead, he squeezes his shoulder and heads into the kitchen for a bottle of wine and some glasses. He almost wishes he spent less time here so he would have an excuse to dally, but before he knows it, he's back on the sofa, a glass of Pinot Noir in one hand, Patrick's hand laced through the other and he's chatting about his work with his boyfriend's parents.

"Mm, yes, I'm meeting with artists and trying to come up with something that feels personal, but I'm having a harder time with it than I thought."

"I didn't know that," Patrick says.

David offers him a small smile. "It's not a big deal. I'm just waiting to meet someone whose work I actually want to showcase."

"You had multiple artists at your last show."

"Yes, because that show was a _statement_ , there was a cohesive theme."

"Did you see the show, dear?" Marcy asks her son.

Patrick laughs. "Yeah, it uh, it was actually our first date."

David shakes his head. "No, no, our first date was dinner. I am not letting you revise this history." David turns to the Brewers and explains, "Patrick sent me a message on Instagram asking if he could come see the show. It wasn't open that day, but I offered to show it to him anyway. So we met at the gallery and I gave him the tour and then he asked me to dinner, where he informed me that he thought he was asking me out with that message."

"I was!"

"No, honey, you asked to see my gallery. It sounded like you wanted to buy some art."

Patrick shrugs. "Still walked out of there with the best work of art I've ever seen, though."

David just rolls his eyes, even though he kind of secretly loves when Patrick gets overly schmoopy.

He catches Marcy's eye, who looks amused, but sad, and wonders if she wishes Patrick were with a woman.

"Mom," Patrick chides, which confirms David's fear.

Oh, god, should he leave?

"I'm sorry, I just... I've never seen you so happy," she tells him, reaching across the coffee table to squeeze his knee. "It's a good look on you, sweetie. I just... I wish we'd known longer."

Patrick offers her a small smile. " _I_ barely knew longer."

Marcy turns to David, and chokes out a, "Thank you," and he knows he doesn't have to worry. He glances at Clint, whose own unshed tears glisten in his light eyes, so different from Patrick's, but equally soft and expressive.

Of course Patrick Brewer's parents are perfect, too.

The moment is broken by the doorbell ringing, and minutes later, they're all shoveling down burgers and fries and mozzarella sticks, and laughing at childhood stories about Patrick.

David even offers some stories of his own upbringing, sanitizing some of the darker moments.

When Marcy and Clint finally decide to head back to their hotel, she cups David's face and thanks him again.

"There's no need, Mrs. Brewer," he tells her, politely. "I didn't do anything that Patrick wouldn't do for me."

"Exactly, dear. He has such a big heart, I'm glad he's found someone who matches it." She responds, glancing over her shoulder at Patrick and Clint. "I've never seen him like this." She turns back to David. "Thank you for giving him this, for letting him be himself so fully."

David just nods, his vision blurry with tears, and pulls her in for a hug.

Once the door is closed behind them and he and Patrick have sufficiently cleaned up the wine glasses and takeout containers, they head upstairs to get ready for bed.

David stops in his tracks when he steps into the bathroom, his not-yet-unpacked toiletry bag in hand.

All of his products are already carefully lined up at his — at Patrick's _other_ — sink.

"Sorry, I um. I wanted to surprise you. I uh, I took a picture on my phone last time you were here and ordered everything so you wouldn't have to pack it all every time."

He bursts into tears — it's been a really fucking long, emotional day, okay?! — and drapes his arms around Patrick's neck, pulling him in and burying his face into his shoulder.

Patrick's hands immediately fall around his waist, strong and capable and holding him together always, even though right now, he's here to support Patrick. He imagines those capable hands fumbling with his phone to get a clear photo of all the labels, he imagines them googling and ordering Korean snail cream and Swiss eye serum, and suddenly he _has_ to tell him. Suddenly he _can_.

So he pulls back, looks Patrick directly in his big brown eyes, and chokes out, "I love you."

Patrick smiles, the corners of his eyes going soft. "I know that I'll never be able to compete with Mariah, but this is just one of those perfect moments that you dream about." David smiles wetly at him, and Patrick grins back. "But I have to ask... is this just because I bought some moisturizer?"

David laughs. With the sob still stuck in his throat it's more like a wheeze. "Definitely."

"Good to know," Patrick says, leaning in for an open, slow kiss.

David languishes in it for a moment, enjoying the press of Patrick's body against his, fitting perfectly into him, _loving_ him, for some fucking reason. "It really is, though," he says, pulling away. Patrick quirks an eyebrow incredulously. "I mean, not _just_ because you bought moisturizer, but you also bought serum and oil and cleanser and exfoliator and multiple essences-"

"David!" He admonishes, lightly.

"Okay, but it's true! This," he waves toward the counter. "This is _who you are_ , Patrick. You... you _do_ these things, without a second thought, just because you think it'll make my life easier. Because you have so much _faith_ that we'll still... I could've bought a second set to leave here, but I didn't, because I didn't want to... _impose_ on your space, I was too scared to admit that I wanted this to last, but you? You just fucking... You're thoughtful, and sweet, and kind and good and so fucking _perfect_ , okay? You take care of me. You... you take care _with_ me. And I love you for it." He kisses him again. "I _love_ you, Patrick."

Patrick pulls him in tightly. "I love you, too."

They stand there, holding each other for a moment, before David chokes out, "I can't believe I told you I love you for the first time in a _bathroom_."

Patrick laughs, and he keeps laughing, until it's his turn to start crying, his relief and quelled anxieties coursing through him. So David holds him through it, stroking a hand up and down his back, through his hair, over his shoulders. And when he finishes, David pulls back and kisses him with every ounce of love he feels for him.

They undress easily and step into the shower together, standing under the spray until their fingers wrinkle.

David applies a single moisturizer as Patrick gets dressed, foregoing his boyfriend's lovely gesture of serums and toners in order to spend an extra five minutes curled up with him.

"I love you," Patrick whispers against his hair when they're both between his sheets.

"I love you," David replies. "I'm so proud of you."

He presses a kiss to Patrick's pulse point, and Patrick tilts his head back to allow him better access.

And he's not about to deny his boyfriend.

So he kisses and strokes and licks until Patrick is relaxed and then he sinks into him, fucking him slowly, deeply, thoroughly.

"I love you so much, Patrick," he whispers against his lips, and Patrick comes between them with a cry of his name.

David follows him over the edge and they lay together after, wrapped up in each other, and David feels for the cracks in the wall around his heart, only to find it crumbled to ruins, nothing left but a vulnerability that is full to bursting with love for this man. He showed his entire hand to Patrick, but he trusts him with it.

For once, he's excited for the future of a relationship.

\---

He wakes up the next day to a flurry of notifications.

**iMessage:** Patrick  
  
**Today** 8:20 AM  
**Patrick:** Hey, went for a run. Coffee is on, I'll bring some up when I'm back if you're not up yet.  
**Patrick:** And because I can say it now - I love you.  
  


  


**patrickbrewer** has posted a new video

 **stevie_budd** has sent you a message

 **alexis** has sent you a message

**Messages with** stevie_budd  
  
**thedavidrose:** are you still breathing?  
  


**Messages with** alexis  
  
**thedavidrose:** DAVID!!!!!! 💖🔥👏🏻⚾️🌃😭💕  
  


He rolls his eyes but goes to Patrick's profile to watch his new video.

He immediately recognizes the evening skyline and Patrick's navy button-down.

 **patrickbrewer:** This one's been sitting in my camera roll for a while. ❤️ (Location: Bronx, NY)

David feels like he can't _breathe._ Patrick didn't wear this shirt to their second date. Or when he surprised him by showing up instead of going to Tampa. Or when he was in town to play the Mets over their five month anniversary.

The only time Patrick wore this shirt in New York was the night they met.

He presses play and holds his breath, eyes already misty with anticipation, and watches a time capsule version of his boyfriend fiddle with his guitar in a hotel room David doesn't recognize because it pre-dates their Facetime calls and he thinks he's going to _die_ by the time Patrick starts singing.

His cheeks are wet with fat, rolling tears by the time Patrick reaches the second verse. " _Your eyes whispered 'have we met?' Across the room your silhouette starts to make its way to me. The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy._ " Patrick picks up the pace, his voice still quiet - David can see the color of the sky outside his hotel and he knows what time he got home that night. He is Overwhelmed. "... _It was enchanting to meet you. This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home. I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you_."

He somehow makes it to the end without suffocating, and falls back on the bed.

 _Joy_. The thing he's feeling is unabashed, pure joy. And adoration. And _love_ , so much goddamn love that he doesn't know how to contain it, he thinks he's going to burst with it.

He lets out a cathartic sob, followed by exactly four more, just to have somewhere to _put_ the emotions, and then he gets up, splashes cold water on his face, and goes down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and to wait for his boyfriend.

When Patrick eventually comes in, David can see the uncertainty on his face. "Hey."

"Hi. How was your run?"

"Good. How was your morning?"

David just stands, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and kisses him deeply, pouring everything he has into it.

"What was..."

"You recorded that after our first date?"

Patrick glances down with a blush. "I mean, yeah? I just... the song popped into my head on the drive home and I... I knew that this could... I thought it would be romantic, if one day, I could show you that I knew from day one that this could be something, that you were..."

"I did, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

David kisses him again, before pulling away to tell him, "But please don't treat Taylor Swift like you did poor Carly Rae, I think two songs is plenty, she doesn't deserve-"

"I make no promises," Patrick says, leaning in and kissing him soundly, which. Okay.

They don't talk for a while after that, David pulling Patrick upstairs, unworried about his sweaty workout clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -Umbrella by Rihanna feat Jay-Z (Patrick uploads it to Instagram when David leaves Seattle)  
> -Enchanted by Taylor Swift (Patrick recorded it after their first date and uploads it after they say their 'I love you's for the first time)
> 
> All are in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	10. rosé flowing with your chosen family (patrick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick is grilled by his teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much again for all of your support and encouragement!!!
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "the 1" by taylor swift

After his run, and after Patrick used every trick in the "How To Make David Rose Come So Hard He Forgets His Name" handbook that he's learned over the last five months, and after a slow, lazy shower, Patrick is finally on his way out the door, pressing a kiss to David's lips.

"You'll meet my parents at the hotel?"

"Yes, dear," his boyfriend responds, rolling his eyes.

"And you'll-"

"Make sure they get to the game, yes. Patrick, I got this. Please go."

Patrick nods, kisses him again, and then heads out to meet Ivan.

He gets a text from his mother as they approach the stadium.

**iMessage:** Mom  
  
**Today** 2:05 PM  
**Mom:** We're tagging along with David on his errands today, so don't worry about us! We'll see you after the game!  
  


  


He laughs lightly. His parents have _no_ idea what they're in for with David's boutique pickups. He made the mistake of tagging along for one once, in New York, and it was intense. And that was just for one sweater that he prearranged with the showroom. If David is picking out a few full outfits...

He pictures his dad, in his Dockers, standing in a private showroom, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of dollars of luxury fabrics, and he almost texts his mom back to record the whole thing for him.

They pull up to the stadium, and Patrick rushes into the locker room to change, pulling his shirt over his head before he even unlocks his locker, already later than he wants to be, but not regretting a second of it.

"Hey, what's that?" Mutt asks.

"Hmm?"

"Looks like a bug bite, did you finally check out Rattlesnake Point?"

Patrick's hand flies up to the exact spot on his shoulder that David sunk his teeth into as he came this morning, when Patrick straddled his lap and rode him into oblivion.

"No."

"Wait, no, that's a bite mark," Jake says, stepping farther into Patrick's space than strictly necessary.

He takes a step back. "No, no, it's not, it's a-"

"It's definitely a bite mark," Emir states with a smirk.

"Are you and Rachel back together?" Ray asks. "I don't remember you ever having bite marks in the past," He continues in his boundary-less way, "but if you've worked through your differences, I can imagine that you-"

"It's not Rachel!" Patrick nearly yells, his voice firm but higher than normal. "It's not a bite mark, it's none of your business, please just back off!"

Mutt raises his hands in the air and backs up, while Jake winks at him and maybe lingers too long in his space.

Ray, however, looks sad.

He can't blame him. They used to be really close, he would stay with Ray whenever he and Rachel broke up, unable to live full-time with Ted and his puns. He just couldn't take Ray's prying anymore as he figured out _why_ it never worked with her, so he put some emotional distance between them. He bought the condo to make it permanent, to keep himself from getting back together with her. If he'd stayed with Ray, it would've been too easy to go back. And having an entire condo to himself has definitely made the last few months with David easier than if he were still staying with Ray.

He catches Ted's eye across the locker room, and clocks his body language. He was about to intervene, to help Patrick out. He wonders what he would've said.

Instead, Ted offers him a reassuring nod and a soft smile.

"Is it Alexis Rose?" Grant asks. "I know you two have been-"

"Oh my _god_ , please stop talking." He realizes what a David Rose statement that is and a part of him wants to laugh, and he might, if he weren't so focused on Ted's reaction.

Ted deserves to be able to be with Alexis in the open — if that's what they both want. They never spoke about it, but he knows Ted, and he's getting to know Alexis, and he knows the likelihood of them being discreet about their relationship because it's a good cover for Patrick is high. And he hates that he's taken complicit advantage of that. They shouldn't have to hide their relationship just so he can continue to hide his own like the coward he is.

"Alexis is just a friend."

Grant claps him on the shoulder. "Must be a good friend to leave marks like that," he says with a wink.

He feels the words on the tip of his tongue, and feels his anxiety build to a breaking point, everything within him about to burst through the dam, and he looks at his teammates, at open-minded Jake and kindhearted Ray and righteous Mutt...

"It's not Alexis. And it's not Rachel. It's, uh," he catches Ted's eye, his smile soft and supportive. "It's David. Rose." he tells them. "He's my boyfriend. We've been together since April. And I've never been happier in my life."

Ray brings his hands to his mouth, eyes shining with happy tears, but says nothing.

Jake cocks his head at him. "Huh. You know, I bet you two make a beautiful couple."

He glances over at Mutt, who shrugs. "He seems a bit out of your league, to be honest."

Patrick feels the laugh building and before he knows it, he's doubled over with laughter, his hands on his knees, tears springing from the corners of his eyes.

Ted steps over and rubs a hand across Patrick's bare shoulders, and it shouldn't be that important but it _is_. His teammates — his friends, his brothers — don't give a _shit_. They don't treat him any differently. They don't _care_. They're just happy for him.

He glances over at some of the other guys, guys he maybe he isn't as close with, but who he's been playing alongside for years, and they all shrug.

"Long as you're happy, man," George tells him with a shrug.

He feels Ted's hand slap lightly against his back. "Okay, this is nice and all, but you _were_ late this morning so you could make out with your boyfriend..."

Patrick stands and pulls on his jersey. "Okay, okay, got it."

Everyone snaps back to action, the locker room energy back to normal.

When their coach, Ronnie, pokes her head in and asks what the hell is taking them so long, George shouts, "Brewer's fault!"

"Sorry my life-changing coming out moment held you up!" Ronnie already doesn't like him for some reason, and it's a low blow, but he had to try for the sympathy pass.

He glances back at her, but her eyes are narrowed. "Coming out moment?"

He nods. "Yeah, I uh. I told the team that uh, that I'm gay."

She looks him up and down, one eyebrow raised. "Me too, you're not special. Do that shit on your own time, don't make my team late for their game."

Well, _fuck_.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 7:24 PM  
**David:** hat adjustment count as of the 7th inning stretch: 134.  
  
**David:** must have been some night  
  
**David:** or morning 😉  
  
**Patrick:** It was, and you know it. Don't fish for compliments.  
  
**David:** 🎣  
  
**Patrick:** Cute.  
  
**Patrick:** And not that it wasn't mind-blowing, because it was, but that's not why you're on my mind so much this game.  
  
**David:** oh?  
  
**David:** 🎣🎣🎣  
  
**Patrick:** I came out to the team.  
  
**David:** HOLY SHIT PATRICK  
  
**David:** AND?  
  
**Patrick:** They're all cool with it.  
  
**David:** GOD IM SO PROUD OF YOU  
  
**David:** I CANT WAIT TO CELEBRATE LATER  
  
**David:** I DONT EVEN MEAN SEX I MEAN I HONESTLY CANT WAIT TO JUST HUG YOU  
  
**David:** BUT ALSO YEAH SEX  
  
**David:** GOD IM GONNA MAKE YOU COME SO HARD IM SO PROUD OF YOU  
  
**Patrick:** That sounds great, and I'm definitely on board with this plan, but I was actually thinking I could invite the team over for drinks first?  
  
**Patrick:** Would that be okay? I know you came here to spend time with me so I get it if you don't want to.  
  
**David:** no you should invite them!!!  
  
**David:** should i invite your parents or do you want it to be just the team?  
  
**Patrick:** The more the merrier.  
  
**David:** god honey im so proud of you  
  
**David:** i love you  
  
**David:** i promise to rush back after the game and clean up the bedroom in case anyone gets nosy  
  
**David:** dont think you want your teammates to see the current state of our our sheets  
  


  


Patrick stares at the phrase "our sheets" for an embarrassingly long stretch of seconds. He loves how it sounds, "our sheets." He loves the idea of having a bed with David, instead of David's in New York and his here.

"Our sheets."

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** You make all the creative decisions in this relationship, so whatever you think is best.  
  
**David:** god its so sexy when you give me creative control of the aesthetics  
  
**David:** can i do your wardrobe next?  
  
**Patrick:** Funny.  
  
**David:** whos joking?  
  
**David:** okay 7th inning stretch is ending, break a leg!  
  
**Patrick:** Thanks, David. I love you.  
  
**David:** love you too 🖤  
  


  


\---

He's in the backseat of his car, squished between Ray and, somehow, Ronnie, and he's _nervous._

He's a bit of a jumbled mess of emotions and he knows the second he sees David it'll all be fine, but that doesn't change the fact that he's nervous and his knee is bouncing _now_.

"My wife still comes out on the road with me sometimes," Ronnie offers lowly, staring straight ahead. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was talking to someone else. "It's better when she's there."

He just looks at her.

She shrugs. "It's a good thing to have."

He nods. "Yeah, it is."

She looks at him for a moment, like she's trying to figure something out.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just don't get what a stone cold fox like David Rose sees in you."

He laughs. "I ask myself that every day."

She nods, and he feels like he passed some kind of test.

They pull up to the condo, and Ronnie miraculously (and uncharacteristically, but Patrick thinks this has less to do with him specifically and more to do with her sympathizing with his coming out) runs some interference with Ray, allowing Patrick to have a moment alone inside with David before the team comes barreling through.

The second David gets his arms around Patrick's shoulders, he feels like he can breathe again.

And he knows.

Without a doubt, David Rose is the love of his life.

It settles him, the sureness of the thought. He luxuriates in it and holds it close and kisses it into David's neck as he relaxes in his arms.

He's going to love David Rose for the rest of his life. Even if it doesn't work out, even if all this travel gets to be too much for him, or keeping the secret weighs too heavily on his shoulders, Patrick is never going to stop loving him, he's never going to love anyone else like this.

It's heady to think about.

"Oh, my sweet boy," his mom is saying as she steps out of the kitchen to greet him, and he pulls away from David, staying close to his side. "I am so proud of you."

"Thanks, mom," he tells her as she leans in to kiss his cheek.

His dad is right there behind her, wrapping his arms around Patrick. "Proud of you, son."

He just nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

They're gone a moment later, making excuses about getting snacks ready, but really just giving him a moment with David.

So he kisses his boyfriend fully, and accepts David's whispered words of pride and admiration and affection, and basks in it until the front door opens with a "knock knock!" from Ray and he pulls back to start making introductions.

Ray is chatting with David about his wardrobe and offering closet organization tips the moment he is in the door, before turning to Patrick mid-sentence and asking, "Oh, Patrick, door open or door closed?"

"Closed, I think, Ray."

He nods, closing it softly behind him and pulling David into the kitchen to ask about his preferred way to store his delicate knits.

Ronnie just hands Patrick her coat to deal with and wanders over to the makeshift bar David assembled on the counter.

He hadn’t noticed it when he walked in, too focused on getting his arms around David. The fact that he threw together a real party with this little notice makes Patrick love him even more.

By the time the rest of the team shows up, Ronnie has taken control of the music and her wife has arrived.

David, three decades of experience as a socialite under his belt, is breezing through the room, charming Patrick's entire team and making literally every single person comment about how Patrick is punching above his weight class.

If he didn't already know it, he would be offended.

Still, every time, David tells them that he is in fact the lucky one and presses a kiss to his cheek, his temple, his hair, his lips, his knuckles, before disappearing to get someone a drink.

He finally corners David in the kitchen after the fourth time he disappears to top off someone's glass of wine. "Hey."

"Mm? Sorry, give me a second, I just have to run this out to-"

"No. You don't," he tells him, bracketing him in against the counter with his arms. "I want two minutes alone with my boyfriend, okay?"

David's eyebrow quirks, and his eyes soften just a bit as he wraps his arms around Patrick's shoulders. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I wanted to have this party so they could get to know you, as my boyfriend. Get to know _me_ with my boyfriend. Not so you could play housewife while me and the boys drink beer on the couch."

David pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth and picks at Patrick's sweater. "I, um. I don't know how to do that."

"How to do what?"

"Just... be someone's boyfriend. I've never just been expected to just... _be_ with someone. I've always been picking up the tab or playing the arm candy or grabbing the drinks or refilling the bowls of molly-" Patrick's eyebrows quirk up at that. "-but I've never just been someone's _date_ to a party."

Patrick leans forward to kiss him lightly. "Just be you, okay? Just be you, with me, out there, with my team. That's all I need."

David nods. "Thank you. I was... spiraling."

He squeezes David's waist. "I know. But they're adults. They can go get their own drinks. Come sit with me so they can get to know the best version of me."

David tilts his head back. "Okay, that was _way_ too lovely a thing to say, even for you, so let's go before I cry and then no one will want to stay because I'll look like a troll."

Patrick leans forward and kisses the underside of David's jaw. "You'll look beautiful, you always do. Now come on."

He pulls David into the living room, and then half onto his lap, David leaning heavily into his side while Patrick wraps an arm around his waist, and shoots a smile at his parents, seated across the room on the other sofa.

Someone has turned on the highlights of the game and David makes a comment about a bad call from the umpire, and his father leans forward to clink his beer against David's martini glass, and Patrick somehow falls even more in love with him.

The party is just gearing up when the doorbell rings and David pops up to get it. Patrick wants to protest, to tell him to sit and relax and stop feeling the need to play hostess, but it feels so domestic and lived-in, David answering the door of his home, so he just watches him go — and appreciates the view.

He hears the heels clack on the hardwood floor right before he sees her.

"Patrick!" He hears Alexis call, throwing herself into his arms. "Oh my _god_! We came as fast as we could!"

Over her shoulder, he sees Stevie walk in, her face conveying her deepest apologies and behind her, David standing with his jaw dropped in shock, lip curled in disgust, and brows furrowed in confusion. It's such a David Rose expression that it makes Patrick want to press a kiss to every last overworked muscle in his perfect face.

"I thought you were the pizzas!" David exclaims, his voice high.

"No, David, when we heard that your boyfriend _finally_ decided to _tell_ people about you, we _had_ to come celebrate with you!"

"Fall off a bridge, please," David deadpans.

Somewhere behind him, he hears his father and Mutt laugh.

Alexis squeezes Patrick lightly on the shoulder, before bouncing over to Ted and planting a wet kiss right on his lips. "Hey, babe!"

"Babe!" Ted greets back just as enthusiastically and Patrick can't help but smile, and glances at David, whose horrified expression is telling him that that pet name is officially killed for them.

He can't wait to use it even more, now.

"Um, guys," Stevie starts, her mouth pulled to the side in discomfort. "I'm really sorry, but-"

"Oh, Pat!" Moira's voice cuts off whatever it was Stevie was going to say. Which was actually probably a warning about this. "When Alexis conferred with us that our David's sweet paramour has finally gone somewhat public with their entanglement and that there was to be a celebration in honor, we had to find a way to join in the festivities!"

"Once again, we are not doing _Pat_!" David yells.

"Ah, son, you look healthy!" Johnny says, closing the door behind him.

Patrick gapes in what he knows is an unattractive fashion for a moment, before he claps his hands together. "Okay! Well, apparently, the gang's all here, so, guys, this is Moira Rose and Johnny Rose, David's parents, his sister Alexis, and this is Stevie Budd, David's best friend."

"Slash-former-friend-with-benefits," she tacks on, smirking.

"Oh, my god," David mutters. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Ronnie bursts out laughing, raising her glass. "To Patrick. Good luck, man." It doesn't sound sincere at all, but he'll take it.

The tension breaks, and before he knows it, Moira is telling his mother salacious _Sunrise Bay_ cast gossip, Johnny is chatting with Ronnie and her wife about Karen's flower shop and asking if they would be interested in providing fresh flowers for Rosebud Motels in Ontario, his father is being effortlessly charmed by one of Alexis' wild stories, her arm still looped through Ted's, and Stevie is flirting with Jake.

Patrick gravitates toward David like a magnet and wraps his arm around his waist. "You called your family."

"I called _Stevie_ , who happened to be with Alexis, who apparently thought the entire family should come congratulate my boyfriend on his coming out."

Patrick kisses him deeply, not caring who is in the room. Even if anyone _did_ think it was too much, they were all too enamored with the whatever member of the Rose family was closest to pay him any mind.

Not that he minded. He gets the feeling better than anyone.

This morning, he had planned to come home for another sex-fueled, sweaty night in with his boyfriend to celebrate their newly-spoken love.

But this? This is almost better.

Almost.

Though there is still time for that later. And Patrick has _plans_.

\---

David leaves the next morning with a gentle kiss and an apology for leaving so soon.

"Don't, David, it's fine."

"Yeah, but you did this huge thing, and we _just_ -"

"Hey."

"Mm?"

"I love you."

David's eyes go soft, one corner of his mouth turning up and Patrick feels his heart expand in his chest at the sight of David looking at him with such _love_.

David's face has been splashed on magazine covers, seen hours of airtime on E! Network, been liked millions of times on Instagram, but Patrick thinks he's the only person who has ever seen this particular expression. He wants to cherish it, to make sure it stays permanently in the rotation of David Rose expressions. He wants it to be taken out and worn just as often, if not more, than that cute, consternated face he wears when literally anything happens that he doesn't like.

Unfortunately, David is taking that expression with him back to New York today, so Patrick's time with it is borrowed. So he grips either side of David's face in his hands, and tips his head down just enough that he can kiss it right there on the upturned corner of his mouth.

When he pulls away, David has his lips pulled between his teeth.

"I love you, too," David tells him, softly.

Moments later, he's gone, on his way back to New York to meet with more artists and look at more out-of-the-box spaces for his next show.

Patrick can't wait to see what his brilliant boyfriend comes up with.

\---

"Mutt and Tennessee want to have dinner with us next time you're in town," Patrick tells him on the phone a few days later. "Mutt thinks you're hilarious, apparently."

"Well, he clearly has good taste," David responds. "But yes, I would... enjoy that very much."

"It, uh, it may have to wait until after the World Series though."

"Your confidence that you will get to the World Series would be annoying if it weren't so sexy."

He laughs. "I mean, you're not planning to be back here until then, right?" Patrick gently prods."We don't, um..."

"Hmm," he hears David saying. "No, it doesn't look like it on our calendar..."

"Oh, um-"

"Maybe the second week of November, though? God, I _hope_ I have an artist and a show by then, and I'm not planning to open until at least January, so I should have a few weeks off and I could come up?"

Patrick grins. He doesn't know why this feels different. Why he feels like it's one thing to look at his schedule and decide when they'll see each other during the season, when he has excuses to be in New York and David has reasons to be jetsetting, but it's another to plan on visits during the off-season. It feels... permanent. Like a plan for the future.

He loves it.

The idea of integrating David more completely into his life, of double dates with his teammates, of David shopping with his mom, of more nights at the Roses'... it gives Patrick a sense of peace he didn't know he was capable of, not after years of turmoil and guilt and anxiety. He feels settled, complete, _right_ in a way he has somehow gone three decades without.

He doesn't know how he spent so long not realizing what the issue was. He's certain, solid, bulletproof in who he is now, in what he wants his life to look like and who he wants to surround him through it.

He just... needs to figure out if that means he's ready for everything that comes with living that life.

He thinks he might be, soon.

"Add it to the calendar, babe," he says with a smirk.

He can _hear_ David's top lip curl up. "No, no, Alexis and Ted have ruined _that_."

"Baby?"

"Oh my god."

"Sugar?"

"Please stop."

"Honeybun."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Snugglebear?"

David says nothing.

Patrick pulls the phone away from his face and laughs. David _did_ hang up.

Patrick just dials him back, and is unsurprised when David answers.

"You have the wrong number," David answers.

"Hello to you, too, hot stuff."

"I'm breaking up with you."


	11. hand under my sweatshirt baby kiss it better (david)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blue Jays' postseason officially starts with the Wild Card game. A wrench (or, a ball) is thrown into their plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end here, folks! Thank you so much for all of your kind words while I've tried to wrangle this beast, your encouragement has meant the world to me.
> 
> As usual, the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ) has been updated with music from this chapter.
> 
> Also, this season is based on the 2016 season, because that's the year I last felt true joy with sports.
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "cardigan" by taylor swift

  
  
  


He has _finally_ found an artist whose work he'd like to showcase, and honestly, he can't believe he didn't think of it before — but in his defense, Twyla never shared her work, until he told her he was struggling to find an artist whose work was joyful.

"Oh, do you want me to ask around? Some of my friends say my art is joyful."

"You're an artist?"

"Yeah, I never told you?"

So he invited himself over to her studio-apartment-slash-art-studio ("I call it my studio-studio," Twyla tells him with a smile when he walks in) and it was _perfect._

Twyla's entire _thing_ is that she is hopeful and good and believes in happy endings, and it really shines through in her art.

He doesn't want his next project to feel anything like his last — even if it did have the best possible outcome. Although, he thinks no matter _what_ art had been on display, it would've ended with Patrick kissing him, and that's all that matters. Still, he wants to make a statement, to complete the narrative he started with his last show, to prove that he's won, that the pain of his past doesn't control him anymore, that he's stronger than the things that hurt him. That he's _happy_. And Twyla's work is perfect.

It keeps him busy as Patrick's season winds down, looking for a venue for the show and Twyla's near-constant updates on her work.

The Blue Jays are playing their last game of the season against the Angels, and David can't be there, so he posts a picture to Instagram from his sofa, wearing his new long-sleeved, black-on-black Blue Jays shirt with Alexis in her MULLENS jersey, without a caption because he can't think of a single thing to say that doesn't sound like, "I am in love with Patrick Brewer, Patrick Brewer is the love of my life, I am so proud Patrick Brewer chose _me_."

When Patrick FaceTimes him only a few minutes later, Alexis answers and tells him, "You cannot have phone sex with my brother right now, you perv."

Patrick just laughs. "You're a cockblock, Alexis."

Her eyes go wide and she is _delighted_.

They all chat for a bit about practice and work and how Patrick feels about the game until Alexis gets bored and hands David his phone, already tapping away at her own phone screen while he and Patrick chat idly about the Angels' pitcher and how Ronnie is prepping the team for today.

"Oo, David!" Alexis interjects, loudly.

"What?" He hisses, annoyed. He's _on the phone_.

"The network's publicist just emailed, they want us to present at the ESPYs, isn't that so _cute_? You and Patrick could like, dress up and sit next to each other and it wouldn't even be a thing."

He imagines them walking the red carpet together for a moment — only a moment, otherwise he'll cry at the loss when reality hits him — before he responds, "Yeah, right, _that's_ not gonna happen."

"What? Why not?" Patrick asks.

"Because! You will be seated with your team, first of all, and second of all, people will _absolutely_ make it a thing."

"Ugh, whatever, David. I already told her we'd do it."

"What? What if I'm busy!"

"You didn't come out all summer to film, David! And I let you off the hook for it! You should do _something_ for the show."

"It's not my show!"

"Hey, guys, I gotta go, but I'll call you after the game?"

"Yes, of course. Good luck."

"Thanks, babe. Love you," Patrick tells him.

David just rolls his eyes. "Love you too."

They hang up, and David wonders for the thousandth time if there will ever be a world where he gets to have this for real.

\---

They win, and Patrick has to be in Baltimore in four days to play the Orioles in the Wild Card game. Ronnie schedules them for a full day of practice and two days off before the game, so he and David decide to spend one day in New York before driving down.

Patrick tags along for a coffee meeting with Twyla, and they find a secluded spot under some trees in Central Park for a picnic, David in a teeshirt and jeans with an Orioles cap pulled over his signature hair to troll his boyfriend, Patrick in sunglasses and the green button-up David bought him, and David is content in a way he's never felt before. He feels settled, in himself, in his relationship, in his life. He loves it.

They get dinner in the East Village and when they get home, Patrick bends him over in the shower and eats him out until his knees buckle and fucks him into the mattress when they've dried off, whispering into his ear how much he loves him and David is happier than he ever has been.

After, Patrick pulls his guitar into his lap, still naked under David's expensive sheets, and shyly tells him, "I, um. I started writing this one in St. Louis and Minneapolis, when we kept missing each other? Finished it a few weeks ago."

David feels his heart stutter and his mouth goes dry. "You-" He has to clear his throat. "You wrote me a song?"

Patrick smiles at him, before leaning forward and kissing the bridge of his nose. "I've written you a lot of songs, this is just the first one I've finished."

He feels like he can't breathe as Patrick sits back and starts strumming. He feels like he's going to self-combust when Patrick sings the first few notes, his voice rough from sex, but still beautifully smooth. David has heard Patrick's post-coital voice many times — placating, whispering sweet nothings, dropping I-love-you's like they're the easiest words he's ever said.

But never has he heard him sing with it. Never has Patrick's hoarse, I-just-yelled-when-I-came-inside-of-you voice drifted slowly over a melody that he wrote _for David._ Never has his scratchy throat that David just fucked raw until he came down it had to somehow string together beautiful poetry that he _wrote for David_.

" _It ain't hard to tell you're the only thing I need,_ " Patrick croons. " _I've been on the wrong end of too many a telephone call, tryin' to say too much and just endin' up sayin' nothin' at all,_ " He glances up and throws David a truly annoying (adorable) wink.

" _With a hand on your side of the bed I remember the words that you said. Oh it ain't hard to tell whose voice is in my head, just tellin' me to hold on, hold on, and you'll see..._ "

When he finishes, he doesn't look at David. He places the guitar down, leaning it against what has become his nightstand. The nightstand that sits under the sunrise alarm clock David bought for him, so he could get up early for a run without waking him. The nightstand that has his phone charger draped over the top of it messily, even when he's not here, because David likes the reminder. The nightstand where Patrick keeps his favorite over-the-counter headache medicine, so he doesn't have to get up and walk to the bathroom. The nightstand that holds the box of condoms they haven't touched in a month. The nightstand that David hopes will one day contain the mouthguard he found at Patrick's condo one morning when he was looking for a silicone-based lube to surprise Patrick in the shower.

For some reason, it's this image — Patrick's guitar resting against this innocuous side table, that makes all the nebulous thoughts of their future fit together in vivid color, that makes him realize that he wants Patrick in his life, permanently. Forever. That he doesn't ever want to be without this. That for the first time, he feels safe wanting that, he knows that Patrick wouldn't mock him for how pedestrian of a wish that is.

Patrick leans back and grips David's hand in his right, tracing the lines of his palms with his left and David wildly imagines a glint of gold, before he blinks and pushes the image from his mind, immediately forgetting it when Patrick thickly whispers, "Happy six-month anniversary, David."

David can't speak, not now.

So instead, he leans forward and kisses Patrick, the love of his life, sitting right there on his side of David's bed, where he belongs.

\---

David drives them to Baltimore, their now-shared Blue Jays mug that Patrick brought with him to New York sitting in the cup holder, and Patrick holds his hand over the center console and they sing along to Mariah and Whitney and Britney and Tina, the windows rolled down and the sun on Patrick's beautiful face, bringing out the red in his light facial hair and David is happier than he ever thought he could be.

They have a casual room service dinner in Patrick's hotel room with Alexis and Ted, and Marcy and Clint, before they all turn in early.

Patrick kisses him goodbye at the hotel the next morning, so David gets a late breakfast with Alexis before meeting up with the Brewers to head to the game.

By the end of the eighth inning, the score is 7-13. The Blue Jays are going to _win_ , they're going to have a shot at the World Series, and David is bursting with pride and love and happiness.

Patrick is at-bat in the 9th, zero pressure to score with the Jays up by six (though David knows him, and knows that Patrick wants to extend their lead as much as possible, that he's putting pressure on himself to get another run). The first pitch is outside the box — ball one. The second pitch is, too — ball two. The third pitch is right over home plate and Patrick swings and misses — strike one.

Patrick stands up, David can see his roll his shoulders a bit to relax and focus, and he just wants to yell at him that it doesn't matter, don't worry about it. Patrick shifts his weight from foot to foot, and taps the bat against his toes. He rolls his shoulders again and squares up. David imagines the pitcher is doing the same, but he doesn't care to watch him when his boyfriend is squatting in those lovely pants, his shoulders tense and firm-looking, his biceps bulging under the sleeves. He makes a mental note to book Patrick a massage tomorrow.

He hears the resounding _crack_ of the pitch hitting Patrick's helmet and he sees him drop into the dirt, dead weight.

David _screams_.

He's clutching at Marcy's arm with one hand, Alexis' hand in his other, as the trainer runs out and places a hand on Patrick's back where he lay unmoving in the dirt.

"You have to breathe, David," Alexis tells him.

But he can't. Patrick isn't moving.

"David," Alexis is saying. "David, we have to go."

He doesn't answer. Patrick still isn't moving.

"Marcy, I have to get him out of here..."

"Go," he hears Clint tell her. But he can't look at them, his eyes locked on Patrick's body, a motionless lump over home plate. "We'll call, when..."

"Thank you," she's telling him as she pulls David out of the row and up the stairs.

He keeps looking behind him, Patrick obscured by the spectators standing in their seats, but the Jumbotron shows him move his arms forward a bit to push himself to sit.

David's knees give out, but Alexis keeps him upright. "David, please hold it together, okay?"

They're inside the concourse now, and every screen shows Patrick. He tries to watch them all simultaneously, his head whipping around wildly as Alexis pulls him along. They're putting Patrick on a stretcher now, his neck braced, and David hears a sound echo through the empty concourse.

It sounds like a sob.

Alexis pulls him outside and they're in their car in a moment, Alexis kneeling in front of him on the floor of the backseat.

"David, can you hear me?"

He nods.

"Patrick is fine. He's fine. He's awake and he's moving. He'll be okay. Clint and Marcy will call with any updates."

"I have to..." he chokes out.

"You have to _breathe_ , David," she tells him, before throwing her arms around him.

And he sobs into her shoulder, imagining all the scenarios where Patrick is _not_ fine. Where a 98 mile per hour baseball to the head causes lasting damage.

 _God_ , he'd kissed that same spot this morning when they woke up.

Alexis pulls his phone from his pocket. He didn't realize it had gone off.

"It's Clint. Patrick is fine, he's awake. David? He's _okay_."

He breathes, and he breathes, and he breathes.

"They're taking him to the hospital to run some tests, and they'll keep him overnight, but he's _fine_ , David."

He nods, the panic slowly subsiding.

"Here," she says, handing him a bottle of water. "Drink up, all those tears probably dehydrated you."

He touches his face and realizes it's wet. A glance around tells him that their driver has taken them to a parking garage, that they're currently idling on the roof level, the screen up to give them privacy. God, how long has it been? It feels like either seconds have passed, or days. He honestly can't tell. He looks at his hands as he reaches for the water bottle and notices the cuffs of his long-sleeved charcoal Blue Jays shirt are completely stretched out, his panic attack causing him to wring his the fabric in his hands and _oh god_.

"How bad was I?"

She shrugs. "You looked like a _very_ concerned friend."

He knows she's placating him.

He just hopes all the cameras were too busy with the drama on the field to pay attention to him.

\---

They pull up to the hospital two hours later, giving Patrick a chance to get admitted and imaging run before they arrived.

He sees Marcy and Clint in the private waiting room and rushes over to them, hugging them both.

"Oh, sweetheart, he's fine, he'll be okay."

He nods into Marcy's hair, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and feels Clint rub a soothing palm over his shoulder blade. _Just like Patrick does_ , he can't help but think.

"I'm so sorry I left you, Alexis had to take me out of there, I was being too obvious-"

Clint's hand claps him on the shoulder and he pulls back slightly from Marcy's embrace to look at him. "You did nothing wrong, son." Clint tells him, clearing his throat.

David nods, unsure of what else to say.

"I'm going to go grab everyone some tea, can I get you anything else?" Alexis offers.

David shakes his head as Marcy tells her, "No, thank you dear."

Alexis looks at David for a moment before she pulls him in for a bone-crushing hug. "I love you very much, David."

He feels the lump in his throat. "Thank you for everything," is all he can choke out.

She pulls away, one hand rubbing soothingly down his arm to take his hand in hers and squeezes tightly. "I'll be back soon."

He sits with the Brewers in the private waiting room, grateful that it's just them. He couldn't deal with a photo of him, puffy-eyed and wrung-out, leaning on Marcy Brewer's shoulder at the hospital, right after Patrick Brewer got injured at a game.

He shouldn't be here, it's too risky. But he can't bring himself to leave, not until he knows Patrick is okay.

Alexis comes back eventually with four big containers of food, two bags of baked goods and a tray of paper cups, all balanced precariously in her hands.

"I didn't know if you were hungry, so I brought some of everything," she explains. With a small smile, she tells them, "David's a stress-eater."

David takes the tea, but doesn't touch the food. Alexis looks at him more sadly than he's ever seen her. With a small shake of his head, he whispers, "I can't eat right now."

She looks at him even more sadly.

Alexis drops into the seat next to him, loops her arm through his and laces their fingers together, gripping tightly. "I called Mom and Dad," she tells him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "They saw the game and called in a favor to a neurologist friend in New York. He's ready to come down if he needs to." David nods, trying to breathe through the sob trying to escape. He tells himself it's unnecessary, that the team would make sure Patrick gets the best care, but it still makes him feel better. "Stevie texted me, too. We're all here for you, David."

He cries lightly then, one hand held by Marcy, one by Alexis, and he thinks about Patrick.

He thinks about that morning, how Patrick's soft hair felt against his chest when he woke up. He thinks about kissing Patrick's hairline until he woke. He thinks about how Patrick gently opened him up and pushed slowly into him, resting his head in the crook of David's shoulder as he whispered his love into his skin. How, after he came, he took David in his mouth and David had gently held his head in his hands, watching him the entire time. He thinks about shampooing Patrick's short hair in the shower after, about kissing him on the forehead when Patrick handed him a cup of coffee, about running his thumb along his hairline above his ear as he'd kissed him goodbye, about all the gentle ways he's touched his head today, about how irrationally _angry_ he was at that ball for daring to touch him with any less care and love.

He thinks about Patrick's beautiful mind, and how it works. He thinks about his sharp wit and his ability to rearrange a manufactured pop song into the most devastatingly beautiful, earnest thing. He thinks about his thoughtfulness, and how Patrick had decided to stock his bathroom with David's products, how when he'd left Toronto, Patrick asked him to leave behind some pieces of clothing so he always has something at his place in case of future last-minute trips. He thinks about how Patrick _thinks about their_ _future_ like it's an inevitability that they have one.

He thinks and remembers and worries for what feels like _days_ until a woman in a white coat comes out and Marcy jostles his arm. "That's Patrick's doctor," she tells him as she pulls him up to stand with her.

"How is he?" Clint asks.

"He's fine," she says, and David and Marcy sag against each other. "There's no fracture, but there was the smallest amount of swelling, so we are keeping him overnight to monitor it. Imaging has not indicated that there is any cause for concern about it worsening, but we just want to take the extra precaution."

"Can we see him?"

"Soon, they're moving him to a new room now, but someone will come get you shortly." She glances at David and Alexis. "We recommend only family for now."

"David _is_ family," Marcy answers, her grip on David's hand tightening.

The doctor nods, before turning back to her notes. "We expect that he will have to miss a couple games," she offers them a small smile. "The Jays won, by the way, and I expect him to be able to play in the championship."

David hears himself let out a relieved sob, more than he can feel it.

The doctor turns to him and offers him a kind smile. "Your boyfriend will be okay."

It hits him like a bucket of ice water. "Oh, he's not-"

"Thank you, Doctor," Marcy says.

The doctor offers one final smile to them before exiting back through the doors.

"I should go-"

"David..."

"No, no. It's, um. It's fine. Will you please tell Patrick I was here? And tell him I'll come see him in the morning? Can you make sure I'm on the list for tomorrow, under my alias? I'll text it to you. I don't want," he clears his throat. "I can't be on the visitor list for him."

"David-"

He squeezes Marcy's hand and with a tug on Alexis', he's on his way out.

"David, what are you doing?" Alexis asks as he pulls her toward the exit.

"I'm about to have _another fucking panic attack_ , Alexis, can we _please_ get out of here?"

Somehow, she gets him out of the doors and into the back of their car, and lays him across the back seat, sitting on the floor in front of him and rubbing his shoulder while his heart races and he chokes down air.

"David, it's fine," she tells him once his breathing evens a bit and his eyes refocus. "She like, has that hippo thing or whatever."

"What?" He asks between gasps.

"Like, doctor-patient confidentiality! I don't know, I'm not a _lawyer!_ " She huffs. "I'm just saying, you and Patrick are safe. No one saw us come in, no one noticed we were there."

He scoffs. He knows they're highly recognizable public figures.

"David? Did you see that guy who was leaving when we walked in? He was crying, and had a baby carrier."

"No, I was worrying about Patrick having a fucking _brain injury_."

She nods. "Okay, but like, they were all there, worrying about their _own_ Patricks. No one was looking at you, David. I promise."

He realizes she's right. Everyone there had someone they loved on the other side of the doors, sick or dying or hurt or in pain.

"Thank you, Alexis," he tells her.

"You don't need to thank me for this, David." She tells him. "I would be the same way if it was Ted."

He looks at her — he _really_ looks at her, and he sees it. The same softness in her eyes that he sees in himself now, the relaxed nature of her shoulders that only comes with having someone in your corner, helping to carry your burdens. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

She nods. "Yes. Yes I am."

He pulls her to his chest in a tight hug. "I'm so happy for you, Alexis."

She holds him just as fiercely. "I'm happy for you, too."

He pulls back just a little and jokes, "Should we hook Stevie up with one of them? Just get a trifecta of Blue Jay Boyfriends?"

She cocks her head at him. "You know she's already slept with Jake _and_ Emir, right?"

"What?!"

"I mean like, not at the same time, obviously, but they were both _all_ over her at Patrick's party."

"Oh my god?"

She shrugs. "I mean, she hasn't _told me_ , but like, she _told me_ , you know? With her _body language?_ " She says with a two-eyed wink.

"Gross." He sighs. "Can we please go now?"

She perks up and taps on the screen, asking the driver to please take them to the hotel.

When they arrive, David sends Alexis to her and Ted's room before he walks into Patrick's, picking up their mess from this morning — they had left the "Do Not Disturb" tag up until long after housekeeping was done. He tosses his coffee cup and puts the open bottle of lube sitting proudly on the nightstand back in his bag and calls down to the front desk for new sheets.

"We will send someone up to change them, Mr. Brewer."

The name makes something in his chest catch, but he refuses to think about it.

"Thank you. And some fresh towels please? Also, some coffee for the machine?"

"Was your morning turndown not to your satisfaction, sir?"

"Oh, no w- I declined it, but I've changed my mind."

"Of course, Mr. Brewer. Someone will be up shortly."

When housekeeping arrives with the cart, he asks her not to change the pillows. She shoots him a confused look, but she doesn't touch them.

An hour later, after he's showered and changed into one of Patrick's teeshirts, he curls up on his boyfriend's side of the bed and buries his face into his pillow, the scent of his shampoo and the night cream David insisted he use ("You spend _all day_ in the sun, you _have_ to replenish it at night!") overwhelming him.

He should check Twitter, to see if anyone noticed his reaction, if people were talking.

Instead, he holds Patrick's pillow closer and sobs into it, for far longer than he thought he physically could, until there's a knock on his door.

"We didn't want you to be alone tonight," Alexis tells him when he opens it.

Ted is behind her, with Mutt, Tennessee, Ronnie and Ray.

He chokes down a sob as he steps aside to let them in.

Ronnie hands him a bottle of very expensive scotch.

"If your boy's big head getting in the way of a pitch costs us the championship, I'm gonna trade him to Phoenix," she tells him softly, without any bite to her tone, before reaching out and squeezing his arm.

He laughs lightly. "Thank you, Ronnie."

She nods once at him before settling into the desk chair across the room.

He looks at this group, who all love Patrick and are here for him when he is falling apart, and chokes out a weak, "Thank you, guys."

Mutt shrugs. "Can we drink now?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to be celebrating the win, pop open that bottle," Alexis says, excitedly clapping her hands. David can tell she's forcing it. He appreciates it nonetheless.

David busies himself with pouring seven glasses — he needs to use the coffee cups, but he supposes he can order room service coffee in the morning instead. He can always pay the team back for using Patrick's per diem.

They drink and they tell him embarrassing stories about Patrick from before they met and it's almost fun, sitting here with them. And it would be, if Patrick were here and not in the hospital.

Alexis offers to stay with him, but he tells her to go celebrate with Ted.

Once the door closes behind them, he curls himself back around Patrick's pillow and falls into a fitful sleep, lulled by the citrus-and-lavender scent combination. It smells like home.

It's a shame he's going to break up with Patrick in the morning.

\---

"Ryan Carey," he tells the man at the security counter at the ungodly hour of 8 AM.

The man narrows his eyes at him in clear recognition, but finds the name on the list and hands him a visitor badge. "Down the hall is an elevator. Take it to the fourth floor and the nurses' station can direct you to the right room."

"Thank you."

He stops by a vending machine for a coffee and grabs Patrick a tea, hoping it'll lessen the blow.

When he finally steps into Patrick's room, he chokes on his breath so hard that he starts coughing.

He wasn't expecting Patrick to be so _pale_ , even having seen every inch of his alabaster skin over the last six months, or have so many wires coming off of him.

" _David_ ," Patrick breathes, like he's been drowning and David is here to rescue him. He knows the feeling.

"Hi," he says, clearing his throat to catch his breath and stepping into the room. "I brought you a green tea."

Patrick shakes his head. "Can't have caffeine right now, but thank you."

David just nods. "Right, right. Of course," he says, setting it down on the side table across the room. He doesn't turn around.

"Hey, David, will you look at me?"

He's still nodding, his eyes caught on a mystery stain on the arm chair.

"David..."

"I can't do this anymore, Patrick," he chokes out, still staring at the chair.

"Can't do what? David, I'm fine, I-"

"I can't... You were hurt. You were hurt, and I was hysterical and if anyone _saw me_..."

"Then they saw you! Who cares!"

He finally looks at Patrick, takes in the fierceness of his eyes, the set of his shoulders. Even lying in a hospital bed, he looks ready to fight whoever — whatever — made David sad. Even if it's himself. "I care," he whispers. "I can't... Patrick, I can't _out_ you. I can't be the reason it all ends for you. I can't do this anymore."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Patrick asks evenly.

David looks away again. He can't look Patrick in the eyes when he does this. "Yes."

"No, you're not."

"Patrick-"

"You're not, David. Because you love me, and you _know_ I love you, and you know that's more important than anything else," he tells him, calmly, placatingly.

He looks back at the stain on the chair. He can't watch Patrick fight for him right now. "I don't know what you want me to say..."

"I want you to say that you're being ridiculous, that you're not gonna _leave me_ because you're afraid I'll get outed. I want you to say that you love me, that you're still in this-"

"And what if I'm not?"

" _That's_ bullshit," Patrick responds, matter-of-factly.

"Is it?" He bites out, annoyed. Why can't Patrick just let him _do this for him_?

Patrick just shrugs and looks at him, an obnoxious small, amused smile on his face. "Then say it."

"Say what?"

"Tell me you don't love me, that you don't want to be with me," Patrick says, his voice even and easy. "Break my heart. It's what you came here to do, right?" It's like he's asking what David wants to order for dinner. He's too calm right now.

"I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna _hurt you_ just because you're too stubborn to-"

"Then don't hurt me, David!" Patrick says with his gentle, soft smile, and David feels his resolve weakening. He really loves his smile. "You're being dramatic, and I get it, it's why I fell in love with you. But you're not gonna convince me, here. I love you, David. I'm never gonna love anyone like I love you. You're _it_ for me." Patrick laughs lightly. "None of it would mean anything without you. So let's figure it out together, okay?"

David bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he tastes blood, but he doesn't respond.

"Now that we both know you're not breaking up with me," Patrick says, leaning back into the pillows. "Will you just get over here and hold me already?"

David goes easily, Patrick lifting his left arm to keep the cords out of the way and David tucks himself into his side. Patrick bring his other hand to cup David's jaw, pulling his mouth in for a firm, promising kiss. He hears Patrick's heart monitor skip before speeding up. It makes him melt, all the anger and fear rushing from him at once.

"How are you feeling?" He asks when Patrick finally pulls away.

"Better, now that you're here," Patrick tells him, pressing a kiss to his hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

David laughs humorlessly. "I thought you were dead. 'Scared' doesn't even begin to cover it."

Patrick tightens his arm around David's shoulders. "Can't get rid of me that easily," he jokes flatly.

"Clearly," he says, gesturing to the spot where he stood a moment ago, trying to break up with him. He doesn't even remember why he thought it was a good idea, why he thought he had to.

Patrick lets out a light laugh and presses another kiss into his hair, his fingertips brushing up and down David's arm, before he softly asks, "Did I ever tell you I worked at a Rose Video in high school?"

"What?! No!"

"Yep. Branch 785."

David furrows his brows. "Um. Okay...?"

"Your dad sent a Christmas card every year of your family."

Oh, _fuck_. "Oh, my god..."

"It's where I saw your old nose," Patrick teases, pressing a featherlight kiss to David's (new, very expensive) nose.

David wants to _die_. "Um, just out of curiosity, which years exactly...?"

Patrick's lips quirk down like he's fighting back a smile. "I don't remember the employee number I had to punch into the register every time I logged on. I don't remember the security code to the break room. I don't even remember the colors of the logo-"

"Red and white," David interjects.

Patrick looks at him, his eyes wide and soft and fully unguarded in that way David loves. "But I remember thinking Johnny Rose's son was cute. I remember making sure I looked at that card on the bulletin board every time I walked by, even if I didn't understand why. I remember that when my manager threw it away that January, I thought for a second that I should've kept it, but I didn't know _why_."

David feels his eyes getting wetter and pulls his lips in as he swallows thickly around the lump in his throat, unable to speak.

"I saw you a lot after that, in magazines, on TV... and you seemed to get sadder and sadder every year. Then you lost your money and when you came back you were... _god_ , David, you were so _beautiful_."

"I _was_?!" David jokes, his voice thick with emotion.

He feels Patrick smile against his hair. "I saw you at the People's Choice Awards last year. Couldn't take my eyes off of you." He laughs lightly. "Couldn't get the nerve to get up and talk to you, either, but..." He feels Patrick swallow as he grabs his hand and starts toying with his rings. David can't look at him. "When you shook my hand that night, outside the gallery? It felt like... like fate, you know? Like I was _supposed_ to know you. And when you kissed me... I thought, ' _finally._ '"

Patrick pulls back and tilts his chin up. "David, I've been falling in love with you in a thousand little ways since I was sixteen years old." David lets out a sob. "Meeting you just... proved I was right to have a crush on you. So you are _not_ allowed to break up with me, not unless it's what you _actually_ want, okay? Not unless it'll make _you_ happy."

David lets out a wet sob and nods his head, tucking it into Patrick's chest as he feels him running his fingers through his hair.

"David, I don't give a shit if someone sees you here and outs me. I only want you."

He just holds him tighter.

They lay like that for a long time, long after they have both composed themselves, until Ronnie comes to check on him and admonishes them for "getting frisky in a _hospital_ , have you no decency, Brewer?"

David extracts himself from Patrick's bed — with a very cute, petulant whine from his boyfriend — and drops into the chair at his side, taking his hand while Ronnie explains the plan.

They won the Wild Card. They have two days before the team heads to Dallas to play the Rangers in the ALDS. If they win, they have the ALCS next, either against Cleveland or Boston, depending on who wins their matchup. Then they're off to LA for the ESPYs, and if they win the ALCS, the World Series starts five days later.

"It's a lot of travel coming up," Ronnie tells him. "You're not coming to Texas."

"What?! Ronnie, come on, I'm _fine_ , it was a mild concussion, and I-"

"Brewer. You're out. We're sending you back to Toronto tomorrow. If you're cleared, you can play game three at home."

"What about game four?" David asks, knowing the division win is determined by a best-of-five.

Ronnie smirks. "Oh, we won't need a game four. We'll sweep."

"Not without me," Patrick grumbles.

"Fuck you, yes, _without you_ and your big head getting in the way of the balls flying at your face."

David opens his mouth, but Ronnie holds up one finger to shush him. "Don't you dare. I don't need that image in my mind, thank you very much."

She turns back to Patrick. "I'll see you in Toronto, Brewer."

\---

The Brewers leave for Toronto later that afternoon, and Patrick asks to spend the night at David's before flying back, wanting just one more day of relaxation before being subjected to airports and travel. So they drive back to the city with Alexis, who decides to crash at his apartment with them.

They're eating pizza, and David and Alexis are making a sizable dent in a bottle of wine when there's a knock at the door and David groans.

"Alexis, if this is Patrick's teammates again, I'm not letting them in."

"Whoa, again?" Patrick asks.

David gets up to answer the door as Alexis explains that she and Patrick's friends ("And Ronnie!" David throws over his shoulder, earning a laugh from Patrick) hung out with him last night so he wasn't alone.

"Aww, that's sweet, Alexis!"

"Thank you," she chirps.

David rolls his eyes, pulling open the door. "Stevie?!"

"Surprise," she deadpans.

"What are you doing here?"

"Alexis called. Said you guys needed the plane tomorrow, so I brought it down."

David wraps his arms around her. "Thank you."

"Okay, that's enough," she tells him, patting him awkwardly on the back.

"I figured Patrick wouldn't want to fly commercial after that whole thing," Alexis tells them with a shrug.

Patrick reaches across the sofa to grasp her hand for a moment before letting go.

David finds it very sweet.

"I brought wine," Stevie pipes up. "Not to mention an entire fucking _plane_. So can I come in now?"

David steps aside. "Oh! Yes, yes, of course."

They finish off the pizza and half of a Meg Ryan movie before David starts falling asleep on Patrick's shoulder.

"Ew, David, you're drooling. Just like, go to bed?"

Patrick laughs and pulls him up, and once their teeth are brushed and David's bare-minimum skincare is applied, they're curled up in his bed, trading light kisses and soft touches.

"Thank you for not dumping me, David," Patrick tells him with a smile.

"Thank you for not letting me," he responds.

They're quiet for a moment, before David asks, "So are you a stalker, or is this like a celebrity crush situation...?"

"Go to sleep, David."

"Did you have pictures of me taped up in your locker?"

"Goodnight."

"One of my old Tiger Beat posters under your mattress?"

Patrick just fakes a loud snore, and David laughs, curling into him.

They fall asleep to the sounds of Stevie and Alexis' laughter echoing off the high ceilings of his apartment.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of this chapter is wildly inaccurate. Sorry to any healthcare professionals out there, oops.
> 
> \--
> 
> Music in this chapter:  
> -Hold On by Noah Reid (Patrick plays it for David for their six month anniversary)
> 
> As always, this is in the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!


	12. i had a marvelous time ruining everything (patrick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Patrick go to LA for the ESPY Awards. The Blue Jays play some championship games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so, so much to everyone who has shown this fic love, your support has meant the world to me.
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "the last great american dynasty" by taylor swift

  
  
  


Patrick has never been on a private jet before.

Well, he's been on the team plane, but that's basically a commercial jet.

He's never been on a luxury private plane with reclining massage seats and mimosas and French omelettes and his beautiful boyfriend curled up next to him on a plush sofa while he feeds him bites of his breakfast before.

And he's definitely never had such a perfect opportunity to join the mile high club, with Alexis and Stevie hung over, their eye masks on before the plane even takes off.

So he and David curl up on the farthest sofa with a plate of fruit and feed each other grapes and slices of strawberry for the first hour, until they hear Stevie's soft snore and Alexis' sleep snuffle.

He hopes the plane's engines drown out any noise they make as they lock themselves in the bathroom, Patrick's foot perched on the lid of the toilet while David works him open with his mouth for what feels like hours before finally turning Patrick to face him and pushing his fingers into him. He fucks Patrick deep and hard, hitting his prostate with each curl of his fingertips, before David drops to his knees, his mouth working over him with the same unrelenting rhythm as the fingers buried inside of him, working both in tandem to get him off.

Patrick bites down on his fist to stifle his groan as he comes, before dropping to his knees and in a hushed whisper, begging David to fuck his face.

And as he looks up at David, wrecked and out of his mind with pleasure, his brow furrowed, his dark eyes locked on his, his lips red and swollen from getting Patrick off, he doesn't think anyone could ever be more beautiful. Humanity peaked when David Rose was born.

They slump against the wall after, trading lazy kisses and the tastes of each other on their tongues until their heart rates return to normal. David straightens his clothes for him and pats down his hair, his smile loose and open and just for him and Patrick thinks, not for the first time, looking into those soft, unguarded, dark eyes, that he will spend the rest of his life in love with him. That he _wants_ to spend the rest of his life in love with him.

\---

They land in Toronto before the girls wake up, shortly after David and Patrick have returned to their sofa, curled in on each other.

He pulls his Blue Jays cap low as they walk through the terminal, arm thrown casually around Stevie's shoulder as they chat about the latest meme format and why it's higher-brow art than anything David could hang in a gallery.

"This is _offensive_ ," David tells them, before some young guy stops him with a shy hand on his arm and asks for a photo.

"You're my favorite part about _A Little Bit Alexis_ ," the guy tells him as he leans in for a photo. "You're so unapologetically yourself, it's really inspiring."

"You just gonna let that twink hit on your boyfriend right in front of you?" Stevie asks him in a hushed whisper.

Patrick shrugs his shoulders. "What am I gonna say? I agree with the guy."

"For hitting on David or calling him inspiring?"

"Both?"

Stevie smirks at him. "You're being too obvious, Brewer. Tone it down a bit, your heart eyes are too loud."

"I'm wearing sunglasses!" He laughs.

"Exactly my point."

They walk and chat, Patrick listening but keeping one eye on David ahead of them with Alexis, their arms looped together casually.

He knows David hasn't always had this with his sister, and knowing that he does now makes him smile.

They meet Sven at baggage claim and the moment they pull out of the airport, Patrick takes David's hand in his and rests his head on his shoulder.

David drops a soft kiss to his hair as Stevie and Alexis share a conspiratorial smile.

"So, how'd you both fit in the plane's bathroom?" Stevie asks.

Patrick chokes on air. How the fuck...

"Would you like us to demonstrate?" David asks, cooly.

Stevie grimaces. "Maybe we _should_ stay with your parents this week, Alexis."

"Hmm? Oh, no, it's fine. I lived with David long enough to learn to tune out sex noises. Though it'll be strange to not hear them leave right after they're done, David."

"Go choke."

She scrunches up her nose. "Pretty sure that's what Patrick was doing in the plane's bathroom, if the _sounds_ he was making were anything to go by."

"Oh, that wasn't choking, David likes it when I do this thing where I-"

"Ew! Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ewwww- _uhh_ , Patrick, _stop it!_ "

He feels like a part of this family already and he loves it.

\---

They spend two days having a veritable slumber party (though David denies that's what's happening, despite doing face masks with Stevie and Alexis while they get high and watch _Bring it On_ ) in Patrick's condo before the ALDS games start, and then they're taking a car to Rose Manor, Sven picking up the Brewers to bring them to the watch party.

Patrick's heart aches as he watches his team obliterate the Rangers in a devastating 10-0 win, Ted hitting a truly fantastic home run, and George jumping higher than Patrick has ever seen to catch a fly when the bases were loaded, costing the Rangers a grand slam and ending the inning.

He's proud of them, but he's sad to miss it, even as his dad and Mr. Rose bring in another plate of sliders from the grill, Adelina sitting with them at Mrs. Rose's insistence ("We are all cognizant of where the icebox is located should anyone want additional helpings," she told her, even though she was looking pointedly at David).

They all toast to the win after, Patrick kissing David instead, since he still can't drink.

\---

They're heading back to Rose Manor the next night for another large watch party, this time of Game 2, when Patrick's phone chimes.

**iMessage:** Rachel  
  
**Today** 4:34 PM  
**Rachel:** Hi. I hope you get this, I don't know if you have a new number. I want to apologize again for showing up like that. I saw David was at the wild card game with your parents, so I assume it all worked out? I hope it did. I could see how much he means to you. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, not just for the season, but for being brave enough to be yourself. You deserve this, Patrick. I'm so happy for you.  
  


  


He swallows down the lump is his throat and shows the message to David.

"Do you want to invite her tonight?"

"What?"

"She should be there," David tells him with a smile. "She was your best friend for so long. She should be there to celebrate."

"Are you sure?"

David just kisses him, soft and practiced and comfortable and _home_ , and he thinks, yes, he can do this. He can do anything.

**iMessage:** Rachel  
  
**Today** 4:39 PM  
**Patrick:** Thank you, Rachel. It means a lot. You deserve it, too, and I can't wait until it happens for you. There is no natural segue into this, so I'm just gonna ask: do you want to come to a game watch party at the Roses' insane mansion tonight? My parents will be there, so you'll know a few friendly faces.  
**Rachel:** Oh! Wow. Um. I mean, I usually prefer a higher-end venue, and I'll have to cancel on Beyonce and Jay, but I suppose I could make an appearance.  
  


  


He shows the text to David, who snorts, and reads it out loud to Stevie, who also snorts.

He loves all of these sarcastic assholes.

**iMessage:** Rachel  
  
**Today** 4:41 PM  
**Patrick:** Great, we'll send a car for you!  
**Rachel:** Holy shit, are you like a kept man now?  
**Rachel:** Or is "sugar baby" more appropriate?  
**Patrick:** See you tonight, commoner.  
  


  


\---

The game is only in the second inning when it happens.

He's reaching for another chicken wing and glances over at Rachel where she's sitting next to Stevie.

And she pulls her hair back and over one shoulder, tilting her head ever so slightly to show off the long line of her neck and a jawline that Patrick was admittedly always a little jealous of. She clenches her jaw almost imperceptibly, forcing her lower lip to jut out in the faintest pout.

And Stevie readjusts her teeshirt, pulling lightly on the hem and causing the v-neck to dip a little lower. He sees her reach into the neckline and subtly readjust her bra strap, pulling it up just a hair, before grazing her fingertip along her collarbone and dipping it under the seam to adjust the other strap.

And then they both shift just a fraction, forcing their thighs to touch from hip to knee, their torsos still carefully facing toward the (ridiculously massive) television.

He jumps up and pulls David into the kitchen, motioning for Alexis to follow.

"Okay, I don't see why _I_ need to be here for this-" Alexis starts.

"Stevie and Rachel are into each other."

"What?"

"Patrick-"

"No, I'm serious."

David looks at him pityingly, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Honey, I know you want Rachel to be happy, but-"

"Guys!" He hisses. "Trust me, okay? If _anyone_ can spot a Rachel Miller move, it's me. She flirted her way into like, four separate relationships with me and I'm _gay_."

"He has a point," Alexis tells her brother.

"Okay, but, Stevie is a straight woman."

"Is she, though?" Alexis says, her eyes squinting.

"Yes, I can tell you firsthand how much she likes having sex with men."

"Okay, but so do you and you're not monosexual, David!" Alexis hisses.

"What's Stevie's move?" Patrick asks. "When she's hitting on someone. What's her move?"

David shrugs. "She'll make sure her tits are out."

"Oh, so like, pulling her shirt down a bit, adjusting her bra, and pushing her chest up? Like she just did to Rachel?"

David's eyes widen. "Oh my god."

Alexis claps her hands. "Oh my _god_ , yay! Let's invite her back to Patrick's and play like, spin the bottle or truth or dare-"

David holds a finger out, shushing her. "This is not a cliché high school slumber party, Alexis, and even if it were, there aren't _nearly_ enough people involved to make me play spin the bottle with my _sister_."

"Ugh, well if _you_ have a better plan-"

"There's no plan," Patrick interjects. "I just needed you two to be aware so you can maybe nudge Stevie along a bit. I'll handle Rachel."

David pats a hand on his chest. "I don't know if you ever properly handled Rachel, honey."

Patrick glares at him. "Really?!" David just looks at him. "Okay, so, maybe not, which is why she deserves this."

"Okay, okay. I will tell Stevie to go for it, if you _handle_ Rachel," David says with a slight shimmy of his shoulders.

Patrick pecks him on the lips. "Deal."

"Okay, what's _my_ job then?"

David looks at her, considering. "Keep Mom and Dad away from Rachel so they don't scare her off from this family-slash-group-of-carnies forever."

"Consider it handled," Alexis says, flipping her hair and breezing back into the living room.

"So, I know you nixed the slumber party, but..." Patrick starts, pulling David toward the butler's pantry. "Seven minutes in heaven?"

"God, yes."

His mouth is on David's before they can even slide the door shut behind them.

\---

The Blue Jays win, and Patrick has an early check-in with Ronnie and his doctors tomorrow, so the party wraps up quickly. His parents tell him to let Sven drive them — they're staying for a night cap with Johnny and Moira and will just get a taxi to their hotel.

It makes his heart swell to see them embrace his boyfriend's family so wholly, the two families blending seamlessly.

He wildly imagines them all dressed to the nines in the backyard, David and Patrick in designer tuxedos, and he luxuriates in the image for a moment before he shuts it down before he gets too far ahead of himself.

 _One day_ , he thinks. He knows David is the love of his life. And he thinks he'd like to marry him, one day. If David would want that. He's thought about it more and more ever since David dropped everything to be with him when he came out to his parents. It gave him the strength to even go through with telling them, knowing he had this person that means _everything_ to him. It's why keeping this a secret — why still being in the closet — sucks so much. He's sick of waiting for the next part of his life to start, sick of anticipating the next chapter, when it feels like he has everything he could ever want already. What more could he need? He has David, and his parents, and his team, and his friends... What else could he possibly hope for to make him ready?

He doesn't know what he's still waiting for. He thinks he may have just gotten too comfortable in this bubble, and now he's afraid to let the world in on it.

 _After the World Series_ , he decides, certain now that the team will make it. _Just make it through the World Series, then figure it out._

They step into Sven's car and he pulls David close to his side and rests his head on his hair, ignoring David's complaints about him flattening it.

"We're just going home, David, it's fine." _Home_. It has a nice ring to it.

He's about to ask Rachel if she wants to crash at his place, since Stevie and Alexis are heading back to their own (or, in Alexis' case, Ted's) beds tonight so his guest room is available, when Stevie pipes up and asks the girls if they want to go out for another drink.

Alexis stays silent, her eyes twinkling as she waits for Rachel to agree, before telling them that no, she thinks she'll just go to Ted's, actually, since he'll be back early in the morning.

Stevie and Rachel are chatting lowly about bars to hit (it doesn't escape Patrick's notice that Rachel is suggesting places near her house, suburban sports bars and restaurants far out on the other side of the city — Patrick is familiar with the neighborhood, since he bought that house with her four years ago; it makes his chest warm to hear Stevie agreeing to these logistics) when Sven pulls up to Patrick's condo.

As they're saying their goodbyes, David pokes his head back in the open door and asks, "Rachel, would you like to come to the game tomorrow? Our family has a box, we'd love if you could join us."

Her eyes slide to Patrick, who nods.

"Yeah," she whispers. "I, um. I'd like that. Thank you, David."

"Of course. I'll leave you a ticket at will call."

He sees David throw Stevie a wink as he steps back and takes Patrick's hand.

\---

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 9:19 PM  
**David:** CONGRATULATIONS HONEY  
**David:** i knew you could do it!  
**David:** also, hat count? 42  
**David:** ill forgive it because you had a game to focus on but still, you need to step it up  
**David:** 🖤  
  
**Today** 9:33 PM  
**David:** also you were right about rachel and stevie but please dont gloat, its highly unattractive and id like to celebrate your win tonight  
**David:** and in case i wasnt clear, id like to celebrate you with my body and i cant do that if youre unattractively gloating  
**David:** and in case THAT wasnt clear, i mean im going to fuck your brains out  
**David:** and in the interest of full transparency, i mean im going to fuck your thighs until i come and then im going to ride you until you forget your own name  
**Patrick:** I got it, but you know I love having an explicit plan to follow.  
**David:** oh, these are EXPLICIT plans alright  
**David:** hurry home  


  


There it is again. "Home," and the accompanying jolt it sends through him.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** Already in the car.  
**David:** 🖤  
**Patrick:** Don't get started without me.  
**David:** i cant promise i wont so maybe tell ivan to step on it  
**David:** IMG_6245.jpg  
**David:** its SO HARD to wait...  


  


Patrick opens the photo and oh, _fuck_. He is somehow already back at Patrick's, his long legs sprawled across the bed and bare past the short inseam of his boxer briefs. He has one hand over the fabric, gripping himself, his Blue Jays jersey (which Patrick knows has his name on the back) pushed up by his other hand. The thought of him racing back to wait for Patrick in bed thrills him, but also warms the part of him that longs for permanency and domesticity with David.

He saves the picture to his locked folder, now titled "❤️🔥🍆," and taps out a reply.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** Fuck, David  
**Patrick:** Breaking land speed records  
**Patrick:** Should be there in 10  
**Patrick:** Keep the jersey on  
**David:** see you soon, slugger 🖤  


  


\---

David ignored his request ("more like begging," David told him when Patrick pouted about it when he left Toronto) to go to Cleveland with him, instead flying back to New York to watch the games in his apartment between meetings with Twyla.

It sucks, but he'll gladly take a few days without David over not having him at all.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 12:54 PM  
**David:** can you call me when youre done at the gym  
**David:** not an emergency just want to talk something out  


  


Patrick is just exiting the hotel's fitness center when the texts come through and immediately calls him, ignoring his teammates' teasing as he steps into the elevator.

"I told you it wasn't an emergency!" David says as he answers.

"I was already free. What's up?"

"Okay, so." He hears David take a deep inhale through the receiver. He's clearly nervous. "How would you feel if I did the Twyla showcase in Toronto this winter?"

Patrick freezes. "Are you serious?"

"You're right, I'm sorry, it was stupid, I don't know what-"

"No, no, fuck! Just, hang on," he tells him as the elevator doors open and he rushes back to his room, slamming the door behind him. "Sorry, sorry, I just... David, I want you there, you know that, right?"

"I don't-"

"No, I need... fuck, I need to make sure you know that. I want to be in the same place as you, pretty much all the time."

"Pretty much?"

"Yeah, David, boundaries are important, but I do want to be with you like, constantly."

"Okay, because, um, we haven't found anything remotely like what we want here, I mean, a space. There isn't a space that has the right mood. But then Twyla mentioned how much I've been in Toronto and how the vibe there is so different than New York, and I found an old storefront right outside of the city that I was thinking about buying and-"

"You want to _buy_ a space in Toronto?"

"Yes, I know it's a lot, but I think it could be a good investment and I will obviously have my dad's guy look over it first just in case, but I know it's a big deal, moving there, even just for a few months, and I don't want you to-"

"David!" He interrupts with a laugh.

"What?"

"I love you."

"...I love you, too."

"Buy the space."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You can stay with me while you're there, and we can figure out the rest after."

"Okay." Patrick hears him take a breath. "Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Tell me about the rest of your day?"

David rants about a snippy cab driver who asked where he was going before he would take the fare ("And then he _drove off_ because he didn't want to go uptown! I had to hail another cab!"), then tells him about meeting Alexis for lunch near campus, "And now I'm back home just waiting for your game to start. How's Cleveland?"

"It's nice, actually. Nervous for tonight, though. Their offense is really strong this year. It's gonna be hard."

"Mm, tell me more about how _hard_ it'll be for you," David purrs.

And, well, that's pretty much that for conversation.

\---

Cleveland wins the first game 2-1, and Patrick is dejected. The series is a best-of-seven, so they still need all four wins to make it to the World Series.

Ronnie gives them a rousing speech in the locker room after to keep morale up. But they still have another game to play at Progressive Field before they get to go back to Toronto, and all he wants is to be home, with David, having "sorry you had a bad day" sex and eating takeout. Instead, he has an empty hotel room waiting for him.

So his morale stays pretty fucking low.

But when he gets back to his room, he notices a bag on the table, with a note attached.

P-

Figured you could use something carby and salty.

You'll get 'em next time.

Love you.

It's on hotel stationery and it's not David's handwriting. Patrick assumes it was dictated to someone at the hotel, but the gesture makes him tear up.

He loves him so goddamn much.

He pulls out his phone, needing to hear his voice.

"Hi," David answers after one ring. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugs. "We'll get 'em next time."

David laughs. "Well, I have a bag of takeout here, wanna join me for dinner?"

"It's a date," he responds, switching the call over to FaceTime and propping his phone up against the lamp.

"Mmm," David says as the video connects. "Unlike a business meeting at a gallery."

"Are you ever gonna let me live that down?"

"I will tease you about that for the rest of my life, Patrick."

He grins. He likes the sound of that. "Can't wait."

\---

By Game 6, the Jays lead the series 3-2. They won the second game in Cleveland, Cleveland won the first game in Toronto, and then Toronto won their second home game. They went back to Cleveland for Game 5 and barely scraped by with another win.

It's a cute dance, but Patrick's over it. He wants to win this series and be done with it. They're in Toronto tonight, and he wants to finish this at home.

Plus, David bought a surprise flight to Toronto for the game, and knowing he's in the stands gives Patrick a determination to impress him that he hasn't felt since their second date at Yankee Stadium.

He's about to head to the dugout when his phone chimes.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:37 PM  
**David:** IMG_6384.jpg  
**David:** you got this, honey! love you!  


  


He looks at the photo of all of his people sitting in the Roses' box. David in the foreground, his arm extended to take the photo, in a black Blue Jays hoodie, with Alexis in her MULLENS jersey, and Johnny, Clint, Marcy, Stevie, and Rachel all in their own Blue Jays gear. Even Moira is wearing a navy pigtail wig and a blue jersey draped over her shoulders, seemingly as an afterthought — paired with a tasteful black-and-white ensemble, of course.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Patrick:** Thank you. I needed that. I love you.  
**David:** go kick some midwest ass! 🖤  


  


Patrick laughs, sends back a kiss emoji (because he apparently does emojis now), and tosses his phone in his locker.

They kick some midwest ass.

They're going to the World Series for the second year in a row, and all Patrick wants to do is kiss his boyfriend to celebrate, but he has to fucking wait and it _sucks_.

He shouldn't be mad about a championship win, but he kind of is.

He needs to start formulating a plan. He doesn't know if he'll ever be fully ready, but with David at his side, he's as close as he'll ever get. He wants to be himself, openly.

He just has to figure out how.

 _After the World Series_ , he reminds himself, glad to at least have a time frame in mind. He'll focus on the series, defend his title, and then figure it out.

\---

The Dodgers win their ALCS matchup against the Cubs, and suddenly their planned stay in LA for the ESPY Awards extends.

David convinces his parents to let them take the jet to LA, Alexis and Ted tagging along ("I am _not_ falling asleep this time so don't even _think_ about dirtying up the bathroom again, you _pervs_.") since they'll be attending as well.

He and David book an incredible suite, with a private pool ("I really hope you remembered the swim trunks, David." "Oh, honey, I don't plan to wear any at all this time.") and a huge shower.

It also has a jetted tub, and David makes good on his promise in San Francisco the second they're in the door, sucking him deep and holding his breath under the water for longer than Patrick knew was humanly possible ("What can I say, I had proper motivation.").

They have a romantic dinner in a private dining suite, making out in the booth between courses before taking dessert to go to enjoy in their room.

David fucks into him slowly that night, holding him close and taking his time taking him apart while whispering everything he loves about Patrick into his mouth, until Patrick is sobbing and overstimulated and close to safewording and David makes him come so hard that he nearly blacks out.

Later, wrapped together in the luxurious linens of a five-star hotel, he returns the favor, whispering everything that he loves about David into the nonexistent space between their lips. He hasn't run out of things to say by the time he's falling asleep.

\---

They spend the next day with Alexis and Ted, who are staying at their parents' house with private beach access that they bought when the _Sunrise Bay_ reboot was picked up by Interflix last winter and has languished unused since, waiting for Moira and Johnny to return this December while the second season films.

Patrick spends a day alternating between sitting under a cabana, his head pillowed on David's stomach as they read — a sports memoir for him, a thriller for David — and playing in the waves with Alexis and Ted.

They take selfies in the setting sun, and Patrick is building a fire when David asks.

"So, what's in your acceptance speech?"

He barks out a laugh. "My _what_?"

"Your speech! For tomorrow!"

"David, I'm not gonna win-"

David waves his hand. "Okay, but if — no, _when_ — you do, don't you want to be prepared?"

He narrows his eyes. "You're playing dirty, David."

David smirks at him. "It worked, didn't it? You're gonna write a speech?"

Patrick sighs. "Yeah, now that you put it like that I _have_ to."

He leans forward and presses a kiss to Patrick's cheek. "Knew it."

"Yeah, yeah."

\---

After they've showered the sand and salt off of their bodies and have changed into their pajamas, they slide between the sheets with chamomile tea for Patrick and the last three chapters of the thriller for David.

Patrick sits against the headboard and David tucks himself in against his hip, Patrick's fingertips tracing mindlessly up and down his arm. He sips, and catches up on emails and listens to the rustling turn of each page as David is absorbed into the story until he blurts it out.

"I think I want to come out."

He hears the book snap shut and glances down at David, who is staring straight ahead, his eyes fixed at some point beyond their feet.

"Um."

Patrick places his tea down on the nightstand and turns in a bit, forcing David to sit up and look at him.

"I just..." He doesn't know how to articulate it.

David takes his hand and rubs soothing circles along his knuckles with his thumb and waits patiently.

"I'm _happy_ , David. And I... I want to be able to be this happy, all the time. I want to... to stop _worrying_ about someone seeing us together, or... Wait, that's not right, I..." He takes a breath. "I'm happy," he starts again, grounded by David's soft eyes on his. "And if I can inspire some kid out there, if I can let people know that they're safe, that they can... that they can-" He didn't realize the lump in his throat had grown and clears it. "I want people to know. About me. I want them to know that there's a space for them." He sniffles. "I think maybe, if I'd known? If I'd had someone to look to, whose team was supportive and accepting, whose family loved him, whose... whose partner was so..." He trails off and smiles softly at David, his boyfriend's eyes wet with unshed tears. "I think I might have had an easier time. I want to make sure people know they can have this, too."

David leans forward and kisses him softly, and Patrick feels his tears settle with his own in the corners of their mouths. David kisses the tears from his lips, and Patrick does the same for him, like they've been doing for each other since they met, and yeah, this is also why. He wants people to see this. He has so much love for David that he can't be expected to contain it alone, he wants the world to share in it. He want to shout at each of the 7.5 billion people on this planet that he has David Rose, and that David Rose has him, and he still might be left with too much for him to hold inside, even then.

"Are you sure?" David asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." He kisses him again, sure and steady. When he pulls away, he brushes David's soft, just-washed curls from his forehead and tells him, "I don't have to mention you, when I do it, if you don't want me to. It'll be a lot, so I understand if you don't want me to-"

"Do you..." David shakes his head once. "Do you, um, not want people to know about us?"

Patrick laughs. Probably harder than he should, considering. "No, David, _no_ , I want to... God, that's the exact _opposite_ of what I want. I want to personally tell every single human being on the planet. But I understand if it's too much for you. This will be a big deal."

David smiles at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"So... let's tell the world."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I think... soon? Is that okay? I want to wait until after the World Series, but... still, soon?"

David grins at him, and Patrick melts. He really loves his smile. "Okay. After the World Series, when you figure out how, we'll do it." David reaches over and squeezes his hand, his grin turning teasing and Patrick knows what's coming before he says it. "Maybe you can write your life story in your Notes app and post screenshots of it on Instagram? Or we can tip off some paparazzi and get caught making out at the beach, or, _ooh_ , we can pull a Cara Delevingne and get caught carrying a sex swing into your condo together-"

Patrick kisses him, more a press of mirror image smiles than anything else, before mumbling, "An excellent jumping-off point, let's maybe circle back to those later," and they don't talk much more for a while.

\---

"Oh my _god_ , since when did _James Bond_ get thrice-nominated for the ESPYs?" David asks when Patrick steps out of the bathroom.

"So that's a yes?"

"Uh, _yes_."

Patrick grins. He knew he chose well with the navy Tom Ford tux, having swiped David's showroom contact's card from his wallet and asked Alexis to call "as Patrick Brewer's publicist" to see if they'd dress him, but having David's approval meant he looked _good_.

"Also, it's four nominations."

David gapes for a moment. Patrick knows his competency as a player turns David on a bit, so he's using it to his advantage.

"For me," he continues. "Plus two team nominations."

"God, do we even need to go? Can't we just stay here and drink champagne until we're tipsy and feel each other up in our _designer_ tuxedos?"

Patrick snakes his arms languidly around David's waist and pulls him in slowly, kissing him in that way that he knows gets David going — open mouth, hot breath, tip of his tongue brushing his, the barest scrape of teeth on his lower lip — before stepping away. " _No_."

"You're a bully, Patrick Brewer. Imagine how the ESPY nominating committee will feel hearing about this unsportsmanlike behavior!"

Patrick just laughs, and his phone chimes. "Hey, my car is here. But I'll see you there?"

"Yes. We will meet in the last stall in the men's room after your last award so we can make out until it's over?"

Patrick shakes his head. "You're relentless."

"Would we call that relentless or determined?" He smiles at him. "Hey. Good luck. I'm rooting for you."

Patrick chokes up. It's stupid. It's a silly award that means nothing in the long run, but David is in his corner, like he always is, and it makes him love him so fucking much. "Thank you."

David kisses him firmly and pushes him toward the door. "Last stall! After your last award!"

"My last award is the last one of the night!"

"Then we will have a nice _private moment_ , now won't we?" He asks, closing the door between them and leaving no room for argument.

Patrick poses for a ton of photos on the carpet, suddenly grateful that David had insisted on skincare and some light concealer, "just to even your skin tone a bit." He makes a mental note to ask David to get him some products — he does feel more confident in front of the cameras.

Inside, everyone — _everyone —_ stops to talk to him. He didn't realize how high his profile was, so focused on David and the team this season, but apparently their World Series win last year, and Patrick's series-winning grand slam in the 9th, made him a Big Fucking Deal in the sports world.

NBA stars tower over him as they tell him how great of a season he's had, NASCAR drivers corner him to say they're rooting for Toronto to win. Even goddamn _Olympians_ stop him to congratulate him on the win, and he has never wanted David beside him more. David, with all of his practiced social grace, would know what to do. David would fawn over him and extricate them from conversations that last even a second too long, he would offer gracious "thank you, we're so proud of the team"'s to well-wishers and would subtly navigate them to their seats.

For all of the fashion knowledge, courage, and occasional dramatics he has gleaned from David in their months together, his social grace has not rubbed off on him one bit and he is floundering.

So he grunts out polite "thank you, you too"'s and beelines for the row reserved for his team the moment he's able.

When he loses Best Championship Performance, it settles his nerves a bit. One down, three to go. Then he can make out with David in the bathroom and maybe convince him to skip the afterparties in lieu of a repeat pool fuck at their hotel.

John Cena — _John Cena!_ — announces the nominees for Best Play, and Patrick smiles watching the montage of truly excellent sports moments, proud to be included. _"The Blue Jays are down by two in the bottom of the 9th with bases loaded. They've got two outs and it's a full count for Patrick Brewer,"_ the announcer is saying over the footage. He watches himself settle in. _"He's the last chance for Toronto to bring this championship home. Here comes the pitch and a swing, and he hits! It's... It's outta here! The Toronto Blue Jays just won the World Series with a phenomenal play from Patrick Brewer!"_ It was a good moment. He'd never felt anything quite like that before in his life — well, until he met David. And now every day feels like that. He's reminiscing and nearly misses it when John Cena — _John Cena!_ — says, "And the fans have decided the ESPY for Best Play goes to... Patrick Brewer!"

He stumbles through a messy speech, thanking his team ("Particularly Ray Butani, Ted Mullens, and Mutt Schitt for getting on base, because even if I hit a home run, we couldn't have won the game without you guys being on base first.") and shuffling off stage before realizing he forgot to thank Ronnie. It makes him a little scared to go back to his seat.

After his brief press conference backstage, he's heading back out on the floor when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

**iMessage:** David  
  
**Today** 5:45 PM  
**David:** i thought i told you to write a speech  
**David:** youre very cute when youre nervous though  
**David:** but dont be, you deserve these  
**David:** still pissed you lost championship performance, you were robbed  
**David:** i mean did they miss your game 3 catch too? ugh  
**David:** anyway use your speech  
**David:** you look too good in that suit to trip over your words when youre being acknowledged for your talent. embrace it.  
**David:** ill see you up there soon, but try to keep your hands to yourself on camera, okay? love you! 🖤  
**Patrick:** Thank you. Love you too ❤️  


  


He's back in his seat, avoiding Ronnie's death stare when David and Alexis get onstage to present the Best Major League Baseball Player award.

"Last year's Major League Baseball season was filled with highs and lows, upsets and losses, big wins and even bigger surprises," Alexis reads from the teleprompter. "It was full of drama, something we would know nothing about, right David?"

"Absolutely not, Alexis, why would you even ask me that?"

A clip from _A Little Bit Alexis_ plays on the screen behind them, of a dramatic blowup fight between the Rose siblings. They're yelling, and David gasps, and then Alexis comments on his sweater and it becomes clear that this screaming match was because Alexis used his eye cream.

Patrick, having only seen one episode of the show, cracks up. He's _heard_ about this. He knows the fight was genuine and not staged because David has told him more than once about how Alexis used his favorite (" _Discontinued_ , Patrick!") eucalyptus eye cream and then they didn't speak for a week even though they were living in the same house (mansion) in LA for filming. God, he loves these two ridiculous drama queens so much.

David turns back to the mic. "Okay, okay, I think I get it now. But hey, maybe that's why we love baseball so much, we feed off the drama."

"Mm, yes, nothing at all to do with the hometown pride and tight baseball pants," Alexis says, throwing a charming two-eyed wink to the camera. "So, without further ado, the nominees for Best MLB Player are... Jake Arrieta. Patrick Brewer," Alexis reads, professionally as the montage shows their best moments of the season. David's mouth quirks at Patrick's name, imperceptible to anyone else, but obvious to the man who has spent the better part of a year memorizing his every microexpression. It's fine though, the telecast will be showing the montage. "John Donaldson. Bryce Harper. Clayton Kershaw. And Mike Trout."

"And the fans have decided the ESPY for Best MLB Player goes to..." David says, lifting the envelope and opening it with care. "Patrick Brewer," his voice reads, full of affection and pride.

Patrick stands, shocked, and buttons the top button of his coat like David taught him to. He makes his way to the stage and Alexis squeezes him, then pulls back to boop his nose before stepping aside. David wraps one arm around him, professional and friendly, hanging on just long enough to whisper, "I'm so proud of you" before letting him go. He takes the award and the envelope from David, trying to convey his gratitude and love. David's lips quirk at the corners and he knows he got it.

"Wow, thank you," Patrick says, stepping up to the mic. "Um, the other day someone told me I should write a speech, which I clearly forgot last time, so let me try this again." He pulls a piece of hotel stationery from his coat pocket. "'Wow, thank you, _um_ , the other day, I was told I should write a speech,'" he reads, the crowd laughing. David's breathy laugh behind him spurs him on, always giving him strength when he needs it. "I couldn't have had a single good game without my team. I'm not gonna read the whole roster, but thanks, guys. For everything. To my coach, Ronnie Lee, thanks for pushing me and for being the best in the game — in all the games. You're an inspiration and you're tough as nails, so thank you." He glances out and sees her raise one hand to her eyes and considers it a win. "To my parents, to my _family_ ," he says, pointedly, and hears David let out a breath of surprise behind him. Good, he understands then. "Thank you. I wouldn't be here without you. I love you." It doesn't feel like enough. He wants to thank David, to let everyone know that he's even better this season because of him. Because he's been supporting and caring for and loving him all year. He wants to so badly but... "Thank you," he says, stepping away from the mic and swallowing around the lump in his throat.

He holds out an elbow to escort Alexis backstage and feels David clap a friendly hand to his shoulder.

"I'm so proud of you," David mutters once they're away from the cameras, his lips barely moving. "I love you."

"I love you," Patrick whispers back.

It bolsters him.

David squeezes his shoulder before they're separated by stage managers and publicists backstage, pulling Patrick to the left to the press room, and David and Alexis to the right to film a bumper for the commercial break.

He makes it back to his seat, again, and wishes desperately that he was seated with the Roses. He would give anything to have David's warmth leaching through his tuxedo jacket, rather than Grant's. To smell his cedar cologne, instead of the Drakkar Noir that Ray always spritzes one too many times for events.

They lose Best Game for their World Series win to Game 7 of the NBA Championship and he feels the energy shift in his row. He feels for his team, he doesn't want this to be Patrick Brewer and the Toronto Blue Jays. They _all_ work their asses off, he had a good hit and a few good catches. That doesn't make him better than anyone else on his team.

The air is heavy while a few more awards are handed out, and Patrick's guilt builds. His team deserves better, his boyfriend deserves better. He's being decorated for what, a lucky hit? His team built an entire season, and he's getting awarded and praised and he can't even be honest about who he is.

He's a goddamn coward and he doesn't deserve any of this.

They win Best Team, and Patrick's guilt lessens. The team's publicist asked Ted and Jake to speak, so they had both jokes and gravitas covered, and Patrick finds David in the crowd, grinning widely and clapping for them.

Once they're back at their seats, photos taken and press finished, the Best Female Athlete award is being presented. In five minutes, the show will be over. The Best Female Athlete will give her speech, then they will present Best Male Athlete and then he can find David.

"The nominees for Best Male Athlete are... Patrick Brewer," He smiles for the camera, relaxed, thankful that his night is over. "Stephen Curry, LeBron James, Cam Newton, and Shaun White."

He wonders if he can sneak away during the acceptance speech to claim the last stall for him and David. Or maybe he should just text him. He knows David got a nicer car service, maybe his has a privacy screen and tinted windows and he can blow him in the backseat.

"And the fans have decided the ESPY for Best Male Athlete goes to..."

Or maybe he'll just ask to go back to the hotel and-

"Patrick Brewer!"

Wait. What? No. They already read the nominees.

"Brewer!" Mutt is yelling. His whole team is standing and cheering. Because he was nominated?

"Brewer get your ass up," Ronnie tells him with a reluctant smile. "You won, you moron."

Wait.

What?

No.

He stands, and buttons his coat on autopilot.

He glances behind him to where Alexis and David are standing and screaming their heads off.

Holy shit.

He won?

Patrick begins making his way toward the stage and before he knows it, the award and the envelope are in his hands and he's standing in front of the mic.

"Um, I already used my speech," he says, dumbly.

His eyes scan the crowd and lock with David's a few rows back, his grin unmissable.

David, who has been his rock this season, through everything. His lighthouse.

And suddenly he knows what he wants to say.

"I, uh. Wow. I've been a sports fan my whole life," he starts. "And if you told little Patty Brewer, who never felt like he belonged, that he'd be up here right now, he wouldn't have believed you." He clears his throat. "To win this, especially when nominated among the absolute best athletes in the world is... it's fucking crazy — Sorry! Sorry." The theatre laughs, and Patrick lets out a breath. "The thing is, these awards, these accolades, mean nothing if you're not being true to yourself. So... I want to dedicate this award to Glenn Burke and Billy Bean, and anyone whose names we don't know because the world wasn't ready for you. And I want to dedicate it to any kids out there who feel like they don't belong. I hope this proves to you that you _do_. That you _matter_ , and that there are people out there who will support you and love you, even if it feels like you haven't found them yet. That you don't need to choose between the game you love and _who_ you love." The theatre is silent now, and he glances over the crowd. His team, rapt with attention. Alexis, hands clasped under her chin, beaming. David, openly weeping but sitting stock still, and looking proud. "So thank you, to my team, to my coach, to my parents, and to my family." He takes a deep breath, finding David's eyes. "But most of all... thank you to David, for being in my corner always, for being by my side for every win, every loss, every injury. You inspire me every day to be brave. You're simply the best. I love you." He addresses the crowd again for one final, "Thank you," before stepping back and walking off stage to thunderous applause.

And it's _chaos_. He can't hear any one person's instructions when they're all shouting simultaneously and it isn't long before a sharp, "I am Patrick Brewer's publicist, _thank you_!" cuts through and he sees Alexis, pulling a red-eyed David behind her and then he _finally_ has David in his arms.

"I-"

"I'm sorry, I should've talked to you first, I-"

"No, no, I-"

"I just wanted to-"

"I know-"

"You-"

"It's fine, honey, it's-"

"This is all very sweet!" Alexis snipes. "But we need to get Patrick to press, like, _now_. I brought you back here to have a _brief_ moment and it is _not_ my fault that you two can't communicate."

She's pulling Patrick by his free hand, the other holding his award, and David shuffles behind them until Patrick is being pushed onto the press stage and immediately bombarded with questions.

"David! David, can you join him, please?" A reporter asks.

Alexis, brilliant goddess that she is, calmly steps forward to the mic and explains, "Patrick just won Male Athlete of the Year. He will not be taking questions of a personal nature at this time. David Rose did _not_ win an award tonight and will not be answering _any_ questions. If you would like to submit an interview request, you may do so to alexis-at-alexis-rose-communications-dot-com. In the meantime, please feel free to ask Patrick about the award and his season. Thank you."

She steps back and gestures to Patrick to take her place at the mic, staying close to cut off any pressing questions.

He must black out, because before he knows it, he is finished with his press conference and they're moving toward the exit.

"Hey," David says, stopping him right inside the doors.

Patrick looks at him for a moment.

He can have this now. He doesn't know what it means for his career, he doesn't _care_. He can _have this now_.

So he pulls David in for a kiss, not giving a shit who sees.

Because _he can have this now_.

David pulls back with a soft smile. "What do you want to do? Do you want to skip the after party, or do you want to go together? Do you want to go alone?" David rests a hand on the side of his neck, his thumb gently tracing over his pulse point. "I'll follow your lead on this, honey. Just tell me what you want to do."

"I want to go to the party," he tells him. "With my boyfriend. And I want to hold his hand on the red carpet and kiss for some photos and show the world the best version of me."

David grins gently, but widely, at him. "Okay. Then we go."

They pile into David's car with Alexis and Ted, who materialized out of nowhere, as he often does when Alexis is around. Patrick imagines it's the same for him, the magnetic pull of the Rose siblings hard to resist.

Alexis pulls a bottle of champagne from... somewhere, and toasts to their wins, booping Patrick on the nose for the second time that night as she hands him a glass. The gesture warms him, like he's officially part of David's family. And he always wanted a sister.

He smiles and presses into David's side and kisses that spot under his ear that he loves so much and drinks champagne before he realizes his phone is going _nuts_ in his pocket.

He takes it out to see texts from his parents and Rachel and Stevie and David's parents, and his cousins and his old college baseball buddies and his high school theatre friends.

All are some version of "Congratulations, I am proud of you, I support you."

Phone in hand, he sets down his glass and switches over to Instagram to upload the video he's been saving.

He heard David's phone chime and leans over as he checks the notification.

"What..."

 **patrickbrewer** : All the songs I sing are about you, @thedavidrose. ❤️

He can hear David swallow as he plays the video and cringes just a little when he hears his own voice fill the car.

"Hi, everyone," Patrick of two weeks ago says, seated at his keyboard. "I wanted to do something a little different. This is, uh, an original song that I wrote for a very special someone in my life..." That Patrick chickened out and didn't name him, but it's okay. Current Patrick put his name right there in black letters, and he never has to worry about that fear again.

He knows the song — he _wrote_ the song — so he watches David's reaction instead, his voice in the background telling him, " _If you're fallin' down, I'll remember that it's not only up to me, you don't need someone to protect you, but you got me..._ "

He reaches over and grips David's hand. " _But don't you ever doubt, don't you ever question my love for you. I will help you out if you let me..._ "

As the notes fade, David turns to Patrick with his eyes glistening and his beautiful smile taking over his face. "You play dirty, Brewer."

Patrick shrugs, lifting David's hand to his lips for a kiss before dropping it and reaching for his champagne.

A moment later, his own phone chimes.

 **thedavidrose** : you got me 🖤 (Tagged: @patrickbrewer)

It's a photo from their beach day with Alexis and Ted, Patrick curled into David's chest in the cabana, the setting sun casting golden light over their faces. David's sunglasses are pushed up, and he's laughing — Patrick had tickled him right as he was taking the photo. His eyes are squinting, his intense eyebrows drawn together, the laugh lines around his mouth carving deep into his skin with joy, his crooked bottom teeth visible, his skin flushed and bronzed in the sun. Patrick is looking at him like he's the single most beautiful thing he's ever seen — both in the photo, and here, in the backseat of this car — because he _is_.

He double taps the screen and comments "❤️" before sharing the photo to his Instagram story and locking his phone. He's done enough Instagramming, he wants to tuck himself into David's side for the rest of the short drive.

They pull up to the after party, and it's a whirlwind of photos and brief interviews, all wishing them the best and Patrick realizes how _big_ this is.

For a second, he panics and thinks he fucked up. He didn't _want_ to be the poster child for queer athletes.

But then David's arm around his waist tightens and he glances over and — oh yeah. That's why. He wants _this_. He wants _everyone_ to have this. And if he can inspire someone else to pursue a life like this if they want it? It'll be worth it.

So he smiles for the interviews and he kisses David for the cameras and tries not to think about how many news outlets will run these photos later, because he _has this_.

And that night, when they finally make it back to their hotel and David kisses his pride into his skin as his hips press him into the hotel mattress, he knows it's all worth it.

\---

Entertainment Weekly  
@EW   
Patrick Brewer (@patrickbrewer) accepts the Male Athlete of the Year award and comes out in inspiring speech at the #ESPYAwards. WATCH: [Video description: Patrick Brewer on stage at the ESPY Awards] 8:33 PM - 21 October 2018  2.6K  5.3K 

E! News  
@enews   
Patrick Brewer and David Rose confirm relationship, and we already ship it 😍 [Image description: Patrick Brewer and David Rose, on the red carpet at the ESPY Awards after party, hand in hand as they wave at the cameras] 8:35 PM - 21 October 2018  1.6K  3.3K 

Entertainment Tonight  
@etnow   
NEW COUPLE ALERT! "A Little Bit Alexis" star David Rose and World Series MVP Patrick Brewer walk the red carpet at ESPYs after party! [Video description: Slide show of screenshots of David Rose's Instagram post, Patrick Brewer's Instagram post, their comments and captions on these and previous posts, a still of their "friendly" hug on stage at the ESPY Awards, paparazzi shots of the two with Ted Mullens in New York, and red carpet photos from the ESPY Awards after party] 8:47 PM - 21 October 2018  53  506 

People  
@people   
EXCLUSIVE: David Rose and Patrick Brewer confirm their relationship to People and discuss Patrick’s decision to come out [Video description: Patrick Brewer, arm around David Rose's waist, David's arm over his shoulders, discusses his coming out in red carpet interview, saying, "It was time, y'know? We've been together since April and I was just... sick of hiding it. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and if I can show even one person that they don't have to hide who they are, if I can make sure they get this same happiness, then it's worth it," as David watches him fondly.] 8:58 PM - 21 October 2018  254  1.5K 

US Weekly  
@usweekly   
#Datrick is real! David Rose and Patrick Brewer go public 💕 [Image description: GIF of Patrick Brewer, a hand on the back of David Rose's neck, as he pulls him in for a kiss at the bar at the ESPY Awards afterparty]  9:03 PM - 21 October 2018  15  351 

Vanity Fair  
@VanityFair   
"I want to dedicate [this award] to any kids out there who feel like they don't belong. I hope this proves to you ... that you don't need to choose between the game you love and who you love," Patrick Brewer says in inspiring coming-out speech at the ESPY Awards. Read More: [Link preview description: Patrick Brewer on stage at the ESPY Awards, statue in hand. Photo inset of David Rose's Instagram post showing them lounging together at the beach. Headline reads, "Patrick Brewer Comes Out, Goes Instagram Official with David Rose."] 9:12 PM - 21 October 2018  592  5.2K 

MTV  
@MTV   
MLB star @patrickbrewer steps out (of the closet) with @thedavidrose at the #ESPYAwards! 👬 [Image description: GIF of Patrick Brewer and David Rose pose on the red carpet, hand in hand, as flashbulbs go off. David turns to Patrick and grins. Patrick lifts David's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles, smiling] 9:14 PM - 21 October 2018  2.4K  6.1K 

\---

From: alexis@alexisrosecommunications.com

Subject: GQ Request

To: patrick.brewer@toronto.mlb.com; david@rosegallery.com

CC: gwen.currie@toronto.mlb.com

Patrick & David,

GQ has asked if you would be interested in participating in a joint photoshoot for the digital cover of their January issue.

They would like to profile you together for this feature.

I have discussed this with Gwen at the Blue Jays PR (CC'd here) and we agree that this is a great opportunity to tell your story on your terms. We will get final approval of the writer and the photographer if you agree to this request.

Please let us know if you would be interested in participating.

Thank you,  
Alexis

  
  


From: david@rosegallery.com

Subject: RE: GQ Request

To: alexis@alexisrosecommunications.com; patrick.brewer@toronto.mlb.com

CC: gwen.currie@toronto.mlb.com

yes patrick & i are in but omg who wrote this email

  
  


From: alexis@alexisrosecommunications.com

Subject: RE: RE: GQ Request

To: david@rosegallery.com; patrick.brewer@toronto.mlb.com

CC: gwen.currie@toronto.mlb.com

David,

Thank you for your confirmation. We will confirm details with the magazine and will send through dates once we receive them.

I also would like to remind you to please not reply all when sending through personal correspondence.

Thank you,  
Alexis

  
  


From: david@rosegallery.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: GQ Request

To: alexis@alexisrosecommunications.com; patrick.brewer@toronto.mlb.com

CC: gwen.currie@toronto.mlb.com

omg lol its too much

  
  


From: patrick.brewer@toronto.mlb.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: GQ Request

To: david@rosegallery.com; alexis@alexisrosecommunications.com

CC: gwen.currie@toronto.mlb.com

Alexis,

What David means to say is, "thank you, we look forward to working with GQ on this feature."

Best,  
Patrick

  
  


From: david@rosegallery.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: GQ Request

To: patrick.brewer@toronto.mlb.com; alexis@alexisrosecommunications.com

CC: gwen.currie@toronto.mlb.com

lmao not you too omg

\---

The World Series is scheduled to start in LA five days after the ESPYs, and they spend their free time in LA doing all the date things they haven't been able to do for the last several months.

They wander to a coffee shop, David's arm thrown over Patrick's shoulder, Patrick's wrapped tightly around his waist. They eat lunch on outdoor patios. They shop, David finally getting some creative input on Patrick's wardrobe, and they hike, Patrick finally getting David to participate in a physical activity that doesn't involve nudity.

The Roses arrive on their private plane with Stevie, Rachel, and the Brewers in tow (Clint and Marcy couldn't stop raving about the food, Rachel just blushes when he asks her favorite part of the flight and Patrick is reminded how they were able to work through their differences for so long), Mrs. Mullens arrives shortly after with her boyfriend, and they take their large blended family to dinner at David's favorite Japanese restaurant.

They fuck in the pool when David slips in quietly one morning while Patrick is doing laps, and in the shower after their hike, and in the bathtub after Patrick's afternoon workout, and on the couch because the movie they're watching is boring, and on the bathroom counter when Patrick interrupts David's nightly skincare routine by dropping to his knees behind him and licking him open, and against the bathroom sink when David retaliates the next morning as Patrick is brushing his teeth, and on the desk for no reason other than David wants his mouth on Patrick immediately and it's the nearest surface, and against the door because they very nearly did it in the elevator and the tension is too much, and on the floor because they realize they've never fucked on the floor before so why not?

And they make love in the bed because they're cliché and sometimes they want to take their time with each other and it's the most comfortable option.

And when the Blue Jays lose the first game at Dodger Stadium, David spends hours taking Patrick apart with his tongue and his hands before taking Patrick inside him to put him back together.

When they win Game 2, David whispers in his ear that it's thanks to their thorough fucking the night before, and Patrick can't find it in himself to disagree.

He thinks maybe every good thing that's ever happened to him is because of David Rose.

\---

The series is brutal. They lost Game 3, and won Game 4, and lost Game 5, and won Game 6.

The series is tied and the game is tied and it's the 9th inning and Patrick probably isn't going to get a chance to bat and he feels out of control.

He's anxiously chewing gum and watching, but it isn't enough.

David is in the stands with Alexis and Patrick's parents, not wanting to be too far from the action by sitting up in the box, wearing the "BREWER" jersey he's worn to every game in the series — the first time Patrick has ever known him to publicly repeat an outfit, let alone within a week.

And it's their seventh monthiversary today, but he's been so focused on winning that he hasn't gotten him anything.

(Ted strikes out.)

Hopefully he's forgiven, given the circumstances.

(Mutt strikes out.)

God, this is going to run into extra innings, isn't it?

(Ray hits it, and gets on first base.)

Patrick chews.

(Emir hits and the Dodgers' outfielder catches it easily.)

Great. 10th inning.

He jogs out of the dugout to make his way to the outfield.

(Jake strikes out a batter.)

(And another.)

(A fly comes toward Patrick and he catches it.)

He jogs back in for the 11th inning.

(A no-hitter.)

And right back out.

(Mutt catches two flys and Jake strikes out the third batter.)

And right back in for the 12th.

He's first at bat and the responsibility weighs.

He steps up to the plate and hears David's cheer of, "You got this, Brewer!" clear as day behind him.

(Strike one!)

He breathes.

(Strike two!)

He adjusts his grip, staring down the pitcher.

( _Crack!_ )

He makes it to second, which is better than he thought he could do in the fucking _twelfth_ inning.

But the energy shifts, and the whole stadium is alert and screaming for them. He glances up, and he can't see David from where he's standing, but he knows he's there.

Grant is at bat next and bunts it, sending Patrick to third, but Grant tries to make it to second and the Dodgers get him out.

Ted is back up, and he glances at Patrick and tilts his helmet back a bit, just enough confident swagger for Patrick to hang his hopes on.

(Strike one!)

Ted readjusts his feet, and crouches.

Patrick watches, seemingly in slow-motion, as the ball leaves the pitcher's hand. He can see the moment Ted's shoulders move to swing.

And he drives it right into the outfield, sending Patrick off like a bullet.

He slides into home just as the ball lands in the catcher's mitt.

( _Safe!_ )

The stadium is shaking, and Patrick is buried under a pile of his teammates before he can even stand up.

They _won!_

He's glad his team is hiding him as he lets out a single overwhelmed sob into his arms before they're pulling him up, cheering.

_They did it, they fucking did it!_

It's 1992-1993 all over again, and this time, he's on the field and his Dad is sitting behind home plate, instead of shivering up in the nosebleeds together.

And his boyfriend — the love of his life — is there with him, wearing Patrick's jersey.

Patrick doesn't think he'll ever feel anything like this.

Someone hands him a "2018 World Series Champion" hat and a teeshirt, and he pulls it on over his jersey, flinging his game cap into the dugout.

"Patrick!" A man with an ESPN microphone says, stopping him. He recognizes him, but he just doesn't _care_ what his name is right now. "How does it feel to win your second title in a row?"

"It feels amazing," he says, on autopilot. "I couldn't have asked for a better team to win this with."

"And you are now officially not only the first openly gay player in Blue Jays franchise history, but that you're now the first openly gay World Series champion, what does that mean for you?"

"Uh, it means a lot, it means a lot," he stumbles. "I just hope it allows other people to feel comfortable being who they are."

"Now, you came out right before the series began, why did you choose that time?"

"I, uh, honestly, I just wanted to date my boyfriend."

The reporter laughs. "Now, you've made the winning run for the last two World Series, how's that feel?"

Patrick shrugs. "I didn't, I just batted in the runs we needed last year, and Ted batted me in tonight. It's a team effort, and this team is incredible, and I'm so lucky to have been able to play with this group for the last six years."

"Alright, well, thank you, Patrick, enjoy the win tonight!"

"Thank you," he says, being pulled away by Gwen and shoved in front of another camera that asks more of the same questions.

By the time he's given his third post-game interview, they're setting up the stage for the trophy ceremony, and their families are being led onto the field to celebrate.

And David is right there, moving toward him, and Patrick takes off in a sprint to meet him, launching himself into his arms, David lifting him off the ground for a moment when their mouths meet.

His feet meet the ground again and he buries his face in David's neck while his boyfriend exclaims, "You did it, you did it, babe, I'm so proud of you, oh my god, I'm so proud. You were incredible. I love you," into his shoulder.

They pull back, still holding each other, and Patrick can't help but kiss him one more time before he greets his parents, hugging them both and tearing up a little when he glances over his dad's shoulder to see his mom with her arms wrapped around David.

Rachel is there after, asking, "Déjà vu, eh?" when he hugs her, and he laughs.

"Go celebrate with Stevie," he says with a wink.

"What-!"

"Hey. I love you, Rach."

She squeezes his arm. "I love you, too, Patty. Congratulations, for everything."

He kisses her forehead as he steps away to greet the Roses, Moira resting her hand on his cheek with a look of pride and a small smile. He grins back at her, before pulling her in for a hug that is, "entirely unnecessary, dear."

He moves to Mr. Rose next, who holds out his hand for a handshake.

But Patrick ignores it, wrapping his arms around the other man.

"Oh!" Mr. Rose exclaims, surprised.

"Yeah, he's a hugger! Assumed you two would've figured that one out by now," David is saying behind him. The catch in his voice betrays his sarcastic tone, though.

He feels a hand thump his back in congratulations and turns to see Ivan. Patrick can't help but think that this was the first person he came out to, the first person other than David who made him feel comfortable and safe and supported enough to be honest about himself. If it weren't for Ivan, would he ever have felt comfortable telling his parents, his team, the world? Would he be able to be here right now, publicly celebrating this moment with his boyfriend and his family?

He doesn't know, so instead, he pulls Ivan in for a hug. "I'm not hugger," Ivan protests, his arms firm at his side. Patrick just thumps his back with one hand.

"Thanks for everything, Ivan," he tells him.

"You can thank by letting go."

With a laugh, he does.

"Patrick!" He turns to see Alexis and Ted, and races over to lift her up in a big hug.

"Oh my god, will you stay still? I look like a crazy person chasing you around!" David yells.

Patrick drops a loud, wet kiss to Alexis' cheek ("Oh my god, _ew, Patrick!_ ") before jumping onto Ted's back, wrapping his arms around him and cheering.

"This is horrifying," he hears Stevie saying, and before David can even respond, Patrick has jumped off of Ted's back to lift her up by her waist, and starts cheering again. "Patrick!" Stevie says, laughing. "Stop, I have a rep to protect!"

"Shouldn't have come to a ballgame, _Budd_!" Ted exclaims.

Stevie groans.

"If you just go deadweight he'll let you go," David supplies, helpfully.

Stevie doesn't though. She pats him gently on the shoulders and allows him one more squeeze before wiggling out of his embrace.

He rounds on David for another hug.

"Oh my god, _honey!"_

Patrick kisses him on the cheek before pulling away slightly, keeping one arm around his shoulders as he jumps up and down, cheering with Ted.

Mutt and Tennessee, along with his parents and baby brother, join them, and Ray finds them shortly after.

Gwen finally catches up to them, surrounded by their loved ones and celebrating, and pulls the players to the stage for the trophy ceremony.

He stands there, looking at the group assembled in front of the stage — assembled for _him —_ and he doesn't know if he'll ever feel as much joy as he does in that moment. He remembers the thought he had at the Roses', the image of him and David in tuxedos, everyone dressed to the nines, matching gold bands on their fingers, and he thinks maybe then, maybe that moment, he'll feel this much love.

But he's getting ahead of himself. For now, he has his entire family cheering for him, and he doesn't have to hide the love he has for the tall, dark, and handsome man in the center of the group with Patrick's jersey over his shoulders, cheering the loudest.

And right now, _this_ is the happiest he's ever been.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I encourage you to read about [Billy Bean](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Bean) and [Glenn Burke](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glenn_Burke), the two players Patrick names in his speech. Bean publicly came out after his time with the MLB was over, and although Burke was out to his teammates and didn’t hide his sexuality, he was basically forced from the league. He also is credited with inventing the high-five, which is rad.
> 
> (As a note, I had misremembered Burke as not publicly out, and I mention in previous chapters that Patrick would be the first openly gay MLB player, which I have since edited because Burke was a badass.)
> 
> Things we are ignoring this chapter:  
> -The size/importance of the ESPYs after party. In this AU, she’s a big party, okay?  
> -Also the fact that the ESPYs are in July. I needed a plot device, so it takes place in October now.  
> -The fact that I plagiarized COH’s Canadian Screen Award [acceptance speech](https://youtu.be/CO-XG6TJLoE?t=688).  
> -The new MLB extra inning rule, because my fic takes place in 2018, so I am able to ignore it :)
> 
> \--
> 
> Music in this chapter:  
> -Got You by Noah Reid (Patrick uploads it to Instagram after the ESPY Awards)
> 
> As always, this is added to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ)!
> 
> \--
> 
> And once again, thank you so, so much for all of your kind words and support for this self-indulgent project. I can't thank you all enough for the love.
> 
> Epilogue will be up soon, I promise! 💖


	13. epilogue: once in twenty lifetimes

# 

### Here Comes the Honesty 

  
By Heather Warner  
Managing Editor  


  
  


It's been more than a year since I last sat down with former reality-TV-star-slash-art-curator David Rose and his then-boyfriend, two-time World Series Champion Patrick Brewer. When that interview came out in 2019, they were a newly-minted It Couple — Patrick had just declared their love on stage at the ESPY Awards in a truly inspiring speech, saying, "I want to dedicate [this award] to any kids out there who feel like they don't belong. I hope this proves to you that you do. That you matter, and that there are people out there who will support you and love you, even if it feels like you haven't found them yet. That you don't need to choose between the game you love and who you love," before going on to thank his partner, David Rose, for his support throughout the Blue Jays' historic season.

  


[ _Photo: Patrick Brewer and David Rose on the red carpet of the 2018 ESPY Awards after party, arms around each other and smiles wide. Source: Getty Images_ ]

  


Our last meeting was sweet, with David and Patrick suggesting we meet at one of their favorite restaurants in New York City, which features high, private booths and warm, comforting Italian fare. "This is where we had our first date," David explained, telling me that the privacy afforded in the seating arrangements made it ideal for them to return again and again as their relationship blossomed.

  


"David, for the last time, that was not our first date," Patrick said, fond exasperation in his voice.

  


"Honey," David responded, mock-condescendingly. "For the last time, inviting yourself to come look at art in my gallery does not a date make."

  


It was clearly an old, worn-in argument. And it was absolutely precious to boot.

  


I asked them to take me through their love story, and they did. Sharing details about monthiversary gifts — Patrick loved them, David hated them but he did participate "exactly once" to make up for a misunderstanding — and who DTR'd first — surprisingly, David, who "yelled it during a fight with his sister," Patrick told me, a soft smile on his face. Anyone who has seen _A Little Bit Alexis_ can picture this vividly.

  


Patrick told me about the decision to go public, saying, "I didn't have a speech prepared. I really didn't think I'd win, I mean, that category was stacked. So I was up there, panicking, and suddenly, I just really wanted to share that moment with the love of my life. ... If I was gonna win an award like that, I wanted to win it as me, as the best version of me, which I could only be if I was brave enough to tell people who I really am."

  


When I say this moved me to tears...

  


Now, over a year later, sitting here with a newly-engaged David Rose and his now-fiancé Patrick Brewer at Rose Apothecary, David's lifestyle-boutique-slash-art-gallery (or, as he calls it, a "general store, but also a very specific store") outside of Toronto, I feel as though I've reunited with old friends. They welcome me into the store warmly, with tight hugs and beaming smiles, their happiness radiant, their shoulders loose and their presence serene — soothing, even. They are inviting a reporter into this sanctuary they have created, but there is no tension, no unease. They show me around and ask about the last year of my life and we reminisce on running into each other at an event a few months ago. Their relationship is cozy, lived-in, and inviting. It truly feels like their hearts are so big, they encompass everything around them. They're whatever the more glamorous version of that fleece blanket you've had since college is — soft and comforting, so worn-in that it drapes perfectly across your shoulders as you wrap yourself in its warmth.

  


David pours me a tea and ushers me to a seat in their back office, plush with throw pillows and blankets, a framed Amtrak ticket from New York to Boston sitting proudly on the desk. When I ask about it, David tells me it was the first trip he took to see Patrick. He framed it and gave it to him for his birthday last year. Patrick asked me to be sure to mention that for _David's_ birthday, Patrick posted an acoustic cover of Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream" to his Instagram, which makes David roll his eyes and tell me that, no, Patrick posted "First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes. "Teenage Dream" was posted the day after, when David complained about "emo, sad-guy music."

  


Patrick winks at me and tells me that, actually, he played his new single, "Honesty," for David before dinner (which features such lyrics as "I want you to promise me that the way this feels right now is how it's gonna always be," "You got an artistry that I've never seen before," "What you have on me is called a monopoly, it's like I'm part of your property," and, of course, "Oh my god, you're speaking my language" ), but it wasn't ready for release just yet, so he posted Bright Eyes instead — to which David responded, "yes, and what have I said about only posting pop divas for me? I have curated my brand for _decades_ , Patrick, I won't allow you to ruin that with the music of people with bad floppy haircuts and snake bite piercings."

  


We settle in, and I ask about the store, trying to keep this professional.

  


[ _Photo: David Rose, hanging a light fixture at Rose Apothecary, his face illuminated in profile, golden light casting a soft halo. Source: Patrick Brewer on Instagram_ ]

  


"I bought the space for an art show I was putting on with my friend, Twyla Sands, who is an incredible artist," David explains. "Once the show was over, the space was empty and I had a choice to make. I could go back to New York, and we could continue our relationship long-distance, or I could move here. It was an easy decision," he tells me with a shrug.

  


"It wasn't," Patrick interjects. "He loves art, and he loves curating art, and we fought a lot over him giving up his career to move here-"

  


"But," David says, cutting in. "Then we discussed the fact that I could still curate select art pieces to sell in the store, and that I wouldn't be giving up my career so much as investing in our relationship," he says, pointedly looking at Patrick, who rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "We decided that this was a long-haul thing and I had gotten everything I could from New York anyway," he says, waving his left hand, adorned with four wide gold bands, in the air dismissively.

  


Patrick smiles at his fiancé. "Yes, we decided it was long-haul. There definitely weren't any anxious moments where my partner tried to so-subtly ask if I was going to break up with him soon, and definitely no awkward miscommunications where he tried to set me up on a date with another man so I could, and I quote, 'see how good I have it with him.'"

  


David waves his hand again. "I don't think the readers of Gentleman's Quarterly need to hear all this, honey."

  


"Oh, I think they do, _babe_."

  


Their teasing goes on like this for a while, until I physically feel the cavities settling in and beg them to stop.

  


One thing we didn't discuss last time was Patrick's decision to keep mum about their relationship, and himself, for so long. It felt invasive at the time, being the first journalist to interview them in-depth after he threw open the door to the closet in a fashion so dramatic that I'm sure it was at least partially inspired by his partner. But sitting here now, with this new ease to them, that lived-in quality that makes me feel comfortable asking the harder questions about early insecurities and doubts, knowing that it won't upset the delicate balance of a newly-redefined relationship, now that it has had two years to build a sturdy, solid foundation. I don't know what I expect the answer to be, maybe something about the pressure going public would have put on their partnership before it proved its tenacity, or the uncertainty of a new relationship's staying power. What I wasn't expecting was a shrug and a, "I didn't want to be the poster child for queer athletes. It's a lot of responsibility to carry." His soft glance to David is not unexpected, however. They've been trading glances like this since I met them over a year ago. "But he made me feel like I was strong enough. I just... needed to catch up to his bravery. Luckily, he patiently waited for me to."

  


So what's next for David and Patrick?

  


Well, planning a wedding, for one thing. And it could be a while — as David says, he wants "pageantry that takes months and months to plan."

  


There's also Patrick's debut album, which he will release independently this fall, as well as another shot at the playoffs with the Blue Jays this year. David, on the other hand, recently debuted his line of licensed MLB apparel with Fanatics, citing "a lack of aesthetically pleasing merchandise for the discerning sports fan" in his decision to design for the brand. The line, David Rose x Fanatics, sold out in minutes, with a restock planned and expanded offerings being drawn up for next year's launch.

  


The couple also recently bought a historic cottage on a private plot of land just outside Toronto, and David gushes about the restoration, showing me progress photos of the kitchen remodel and the ornamental cherry trees they planted. It's quaint, and homey, and I can absolutely picture these two turning it into a vibrant space full of life.

  


[ _Photo: David Rose and Patrick Brewer, standing in front of their cottage. David dangles a set of keys in one hand, his other wrapped around the back of Patrick's neck as he pulls him in for a kiss, Patrick's arms wrapped around his waist. Source: David Rose on Instagram_ ]

  


"We're also planning to take some time away," he tells me. "We've traveled so much over the last two years, but we've never really taken a vacation, since we were setting up David's store-" ("Slash gallery!" David interjects) "During the off-season. Plus, we _do_ know some people at the Rosebud Motel Group, so I think we can swing a discount."

  


Will Alexis and her long-term beau (and Patrick's former Blue Jays teammate, who now plays for the Mets), Ted Mullens, be joining them for this trip?

  


"Absolutely not," David tells me, horrified at the notion of a romantic getaway double-date with his sister.

  


"My ex-fiancée and her girlfriend, David's best-friend-slash-ex, might join us, though," Patrick says teasingly, referring to Rosebud Motel Group COO Stevie Budd, David's best friend and apparently, his ex, and elementary school teacher Rachel Miller, Stevie's girlfriend and Patrick's ex-fiancée-turned-best-friend — two pillars of their "tangled web of chosen family," as David describes their tight-knit circle of family and friends.

  


"Since when?!" David shrieks. Patrick laughs at him, assures him he's joking, and they settle back in to finish this very professional interview.

  


[ _Photo: David Rose and Patrick Brewer seem to only have eyes for each other as they pop a bottle of champagne at their engagement party. L-R: Ted Mullens, Alexis Rose, Stevie Budd, Rachel Miller, David Rose, Patrick Brewer, Clint Brewer, Marcy Brewer, Johnny Rose, Moira Rose. Source: Ray Butani on Instagram_ ]

  


Although, I don't get much more out of them — they're too wrapped in each other in their newly-engaged bubble. But it's nice to see.

  


David Rose hasn't had an easy go of things, as anyone who thinks critically about the tabloid culture of the early-aughts can sympathize with. His every heartbreak was seen as entertainment, photos that are considered revenge porn at best were shared widely on the internet as evidence of his promiscuity. His parents purchasing his every success was all the proof people seemed to need that he was untalented, not worthy of his status in the art world. When his family lost everything, the world brushed him off, uninterested if he couldn't provide them with entertainment.

  


But he bounced back, stronger than ever. He struck out, solo, to prove himself, and did so spectacularly.

  


Asking him about that now, he just shrugs and looks at his nails. "It's not been an easy road for me," he tells me, his voice even and practiced. "But knowing that Patrick was there at the end of it makes everything okay."

  


And Patrick Brewer, who in our last interview told me about struggling with his sense of self for decades until finally finding happiness with his now-fiancé, assures me that he will always be there at the end of it. "I'd climb a thousand mountains for him," he says, matter-of-factly.

  


The Blue Jays may not have made it to the World Series last year for a threepeat, but Patrick shrugs it off with a, "No matter what the team does, I still get a ring this year. A better one, so," and a sly smirk toward his fiancé, who rolls his eyes.

  


"You're so fucking annoying," David tells him.

  


"Yeah, but you love me."

  


He does. It's obvious to anyone who spends even a second around them. And it's truly inspiring to witness.

  


\--

  


Photo Details: David Rose and Patrick Brewer were photographed at Rogers Centre in Toronto, Ontario, in April 2020. Styled by: David Rose.

  


Cover Photo Description: David Rose and Patrick Brewer at a concession stand, Patrick, in Tom Ford, behind the counter, serving David a bottle of beer. David, wearing Dior, lounges atop the counter, his hand brushing Patrick's as he accepts the bottle.

  


First Inside Photo Description: David Rose and Patrick Brewer in the stands, David, in Givenchy and Prada, lounging over three seats on his back with his eyes closed. Patrick, in Gucci, is cheering, his beer spilling out of its cup, the photo captured just before it splashes onto David.

  


Second Inside Photo Description: David Rose, in Prada, and Patrick Brewer, in Dior, as seen on the Kiss Cam, David pressing a kiss to Patrick's cheek as he grins.

  


Third Inside Photo Description: Patrick Brewer and David Rose in the dugout. David, in Tom Ford and Calvin Klein, pushing Patrick, in Valentino, back onto the bench as he climbs into his lap, Patrick's eyes caught on his face.

  


Fourth Inside Photo Description: Patrick Brewer and David Rose, both in David Rose x Fanatics, shot from above, lounging in the grass in the infield. Patrick is resting his head on David's leg. They look at each other, hands intertwined, David's gold engagement rings glinting in the sunlight.

  


\--

  


This story appears in the August 2020 issue of GQ, on newsstands June 25th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in this chapter:  
> -Teenage Dream by Katy Perry  
> -First Day of My Life by Bright Eyes  
> -Honesty by Noah Reid
> 
> All songs mentioned have been added to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xORBpSzi5iWfNwTC9xGeM?si=MpSJvYebSgCVwAC_nGzBLQ).
> 
> \--  
> chapter title from "cardigan" by taylor swift
> 
> \--  
> I truly do not have the words to thank you all for all of your endless support and kind comments and messages about this fic. I wrote this as self-indulgent comfort food when I needed it, and all of the love you've shown this fic, and me, and the friends I've made because of it, has been so overwhelming and has honestly been the bright spot of my year. Sometimes, your kind words would move me to (happy) tears, and on particularly hard days, they were the only thing that cut through the clouds. I honestly could not have asked for a better reception from a fandom, and I will (vainly, because I am human) be rereading your comments whenever I need a boost. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🖤
> 
> (and feel free to chat with me on [tumblr](https://danverses.tumblr.com)!)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [your eyes are wider than distance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28670730) by [grapehyasynth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth)
  * [One last kiss then catch your flight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679295) by [yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau)




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